The stone stood, a relic marking where once the slaughter of the innocents took place. Who now cares for the truth- they were bait for enemy lured to defeat or the myth- a nation born out of struggle. Only songs remember why—the bodies, with the nation, long since dust.
Flash Fiction learning that the heart of writing is imagination + craft + editing.
Monday, 31 August 2009
Saturday, 29 August 2009
How not to ask for a Loan
Thursday, 27 August 2009
For better or for worse
We are going out whether you like it or not
think of the glamour when we are on the yacht.
I'm on the mobile.
I could wear the little black dress with gold edges.
To think, they live in houses with concierges.
Shush, on the mobile.
Try to wear your pinstripe suit, as for our first kiss,
and look with love rather than taking the piss.
Finished the mobile...
...I hear he replaced you with jail bait—yes, I know.
So do yachts matter more…should I stay or go?
I'll ring the mobile.
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
Strange Fruit
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Don’t Mess With Grandma
Monday, 24 August 2009
Hot and Cold Holiday
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Getting Chosen
'Yor stuck with yor kin but you choose yor friends,' she said in a take-me-as-you-find-me voice. It wasn’t an invite. Maggie, standing in her thrown together boot-sale clothes, sidled a look at me. Sighing, she brushed her grey scraggy hair back and said, ' But I reckon you'll do.'
Saturday, 22 August 2009
A Secret Affair
Friday, 21 August 2009
Cold Turkey
Thursday, 20 August 2009
Run Rabbit Run…
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
Clashing Obsessions
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
The Pedant's burden
At times of stress, you know
before you want to kill,
but after you slam doors
repeat to yourself this
evocation: They may
vacillate but you
insist on time worn rules.
As you calm, look again
to the stupid squiggles
innocently peering
out- a clear sense rotted.
Now your head thumps again,
someone has to say no!
Sadly, you wail in vain
unheard and ignored as
common gutter grammar
kills our Bard's mother tongue.
Sunday, 16 August 2009
Waiting too long
Always alone
by the thrown tree—
his moan now woe.
Blue skies his low.
Best was snow or
rain—though love missed.
On death, she kissed.
He waited as he always waited—outside by the fallen tree.
.....The worse days were sunny and blue when the children danced to school. But on
rainy days when the children trudged by he could always imagine her wanting to
come.
.....Not even her death stopped him waiting.
When is mine yours?
The wedding dress was a satin back taffeta
a-line gown with halter-top but the mirror was screaming not good with those shoulders. In any case, the side-draped
waistline with its delicate crystal beading was too tight but what did you expect.
.....Shame his girl friend insisted he wore a morning-suit.
Saturday, 15 August 2009
How you treat the least amongst you, is how you shall be judged
Revenge is never cold
Monday, 10 August 2009
When you can’t say no
Saturday, 8 August 2009
Going beyond
When your love fades
Sunday, 2 August 2009
Sex in England
On the weekend of the new football season.
Careful what you wish for
They staggered on through the moonlight, a
grey line stretching from hill to hill—silent
except for the groans of the wounded and
the flutter of ragged flags. The swaggered
farewells of spring long replaced with anger.
.....At his execution, the King still shouted,
‘Victory or Death.’
....The mob agreed.
Saturday, 1 August 2009
The peacemaker’s creed
You are a yellow-belly but you sing.
You are a yellow-belly but want love.
You are a yellow-belly and say now.
You stand and say why wait; let us stop now!
Others only kill but you want to sing.
They come to look on you with hate, not love
The stabs start in the night but you give love.
Angry voices squash your pleas for peace now.
They crush your flesh but our spirit will sing
I’m a yellow-belly and sing love now
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