Consumed by vanity she was absorbed in her own reflection.
Category Archives: Self compositions
WHAT DO YOU SEE? MARCH 12, 2019 #Tanka
safe in ignorance,
silver-scaled serpent, slumbers
in his snow clad nest,
overhead his nemesis,
pennant raised, prepares his lance
Filed under Alternative history, Factual, Inspired by fable, Self compositions, Tanka
Crimson’s creative challenge #18
The coach trip was over. Unable to get the song out of his head he gathered all the bottles he could find, he even put up a fence in case of accidents, sadly none were green.
Filed under Flash fiction, General post, Self compositions, Singalong, Whimsical
One-Liner Wednesday – Duck!
The ice age happened so quickly we didn’t get the chance to flee.
Filed under Alternative history, Flash fiction, nature inspired, Self compositions, Whimsical
Colleen’s 2019 Weekly Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 127 #SynonymsOnly: Lead and Follow #Haibun
We sit before the screen, our eyes intent. A soothing voice, as familiar to the viewer as their own is guiding the scene; explaining the misty grey image. We make out the lumbering shapes and follow their glowing white tusks as they pick their way delicately over the rocks into the cave mouth. A journey repeated many times over the millennia and now diminishing with the shrinkage of the herds. The craving for salt that can never be extinguished.
nose to tail they climb,
with matriarch in the van
the herd in pursuit
Filed under Factual, Haibun, nature inspired, Old knowledge, Self compositions
Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt: Tranquil #writephoto
It was just after dawn. I was up beside the pond. It was one of those mornings when you can be at peace with the world. The sun through the clouds gave an indigo tint which was most noticeable on the branches that formed the dam. The calm waters set me to thinking of another time when I had visited this spot. A darker time.
My mother had called me to tell me that my stepfather Joe had gone out again. I feel that I should explain about Joe. Both he and my mother believed he was getting a bit absent minded. Neither would face the truth. A visit to the doctor was out of the question. I couldn’t convince them he should go, if only for a check up.
I knew where he might be so I set off for the brook. I met Steve in his garden and trying to appear casual asked if he’d seen Joe. He knew the story but confirmed that Joe hadn’t passed within the last half hour. He offered to take a walk round the village to see if he could find him. I thanked him and hurried on, sure that I was most likely to find him.
I walked out from the trees that bordered the river and there he was. I shouted out so as not to startle him, he was standing on the bank without coat or hat. He turned and his eyes were red. Suddenly his face lit up and putting a finger to his lips motioned me to be quiet and come and sit down. Not speaking, he pointed to the far side of the lake. I followed his gaze knowing that I would not see what he imagined he could see. We had been through this before as he looked for lost memories.
This time though was different. I heard a splash and to my amazement saw what appeared to be the snout of a very large rat. It was moving rapidly , leaving a vee-shaped trail of bubbles. Then I understood his tears, not sadness but joy. For the first time beavers had re-colonised the river and they were the builders of the log dam that had formed this pond. I too cried. We sat quietly watching these settlers until I finally put my arm around Joe’s shoulders to guide and help him home.
Filed under As you read it, Flash fiction, nature inspired, Self compositions
RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #244 Sound&Motion
Across the wide sound,
dark ripples stirred to motion,
storm winds approaching
Filed under Factual, Haiku, nature inspired, Self compositions, Uncategorized
Weekend writing prompt #96 #Seashore
She stands alone above the shore,
where waves roll in, roll out once more
wet shingle sings throughout the night
reflecting beams of pale moonlight,
while those who visit from the land
leave loud footprints in the sand
each brief message only lasts one day
till every trace is washed away
like their dwellings built on banks of clay.
Filed under As you read it, On the lines of romance, Self compositions
What do you see? Mar 5 2019
While the tambours played
Psyche dancing, offered him
the key to her heart.
Crimson’s Creative Challenge #17
Donovan had committed the unthinkable. Whilst being groomed ready for the North of England livestock fair he had suddenly gone berserk. With a furious snort he turned and kicked Old Bill, the farmhand and groomer. While he lay winded Donovan had stamped upon his heaving chest then thrust his horns directly into Bill’s stomach. By the time they had controlled the bull, poor Bill was dead through shock and loss of blood. These countrymen were superstitious, Donovan could not go unpunished. Custom decreed that Donovan must die and the punishment had to be hanging. There was one problem, gallows had not been used for many years and the wooden beams would never hold his weight. At once the solution became clear. The old railway bridge. The central girder was strong enough. That evening honour was satisfied. Later in the evening the unexpected ox roast went well.
When the pen takes control. 