Another day another limerick.
This week…The lunchtime limerick subject will be desire or something kind of inappropriate.
A suicide bomber names Bert
So frustrated, his testicles hurt
Blew himself into three
For the virgins you see
He was promised – tall, short, round and pert
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
I set myself a challenge this week…
Fatties in space – The Poem. Not for kiddies
Image courtesy of me
I will admit, pressing the like button on things quite often causes me some consternation
I will admit, pressing the like button on things quite often causes me some consternation, especially if it is something sad. I want to support and encourage, please do not get me wrong, but it often leaves me feeling rather uneasy.
I am quite sure that it would not be taken this way, but I recall feeling most conflicted recently when a Facebook acquaintance posted that he had cancer but was determined to fight it. I wanted to applaud his resolve but would not want to give a big thumbs to his loss of a testicle in the same way I would if someone had posted a video of a puppy falling over in a particularly cute way. How can I like just part of it?
But beware, the risk runs deeper and you never quite know how your like might be interpreted. My wife recently liked an article entitled “Child molesters face internet crack down”, and when I first saw it fleetingly it was somewhat truncated and all I saw was “Mrs Michael likes Childmolesters…”
What if the article had been “Big cock fighting ring smashed wide open” or “Many men now using public transport”. How would I have felt then?
What if I was to like a news article which spoke of the injustice of being unfairly accused of a crime you did not commit entitled “Being fingered by a snitch ruined my life”. I think it is most sad that this reservation that consumes me recently prevented me from expressing my thanks for the great work the police in America after reading an online article entitled “Rape and murder incidents on the decline in New York”.
Perhaps I should just leave a nice comment or send a card…
More things from my brain?
Lets see whether a daily haiku works shall we?
Each night, around midnight a haiku based on things close to my heart.
Under-cooked chicken
Looked done and quite delicious
we need more bathrooms!
I imagine this will be the pretty poor standard, so don’t get your hopes up. Tomorrows is better.
Want to read something different? These are all quite funny I think.
Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge No. 49 #Haiku #Tanka #Haibun: Soar & Wait
“Look at me boy” he snarled as Harley walked past, launching into another rant. “He will chastise you 7 times and you shall eat the flesh of you sons and daughters” he screamed.
In response to M’s writing prompt “A pinch of happiness”.
Harley was very much a man of habit. Each morning he would wake up at 6.45, hit the snooze button three times and then promptly into the shower where he would always use an exfoliating scrub. He liked the way it made his skin look.
He would then dress quite impeccably in a dark suit and pastel shirt, followed by a light breakfast of toast and orange marmalade whilst he checked his social media accounts and sent a good morning message to his partner who worked the early shift at the local hospital. A quick wash and dry of the plate and knife later and he would set off for work at precisely 7.45 a.m.
Monday to Friday the short walk to the underground was always punctuated by a stop off at the ‘Roasted Bean’ where he would have his usual skinny latte. He would smile at Rose, a pretty freckle faced girl, who would recognise him in the queue and ask how he was and he would always reply that he was fine thank you.
He was a good and kind man, loyal to his friends, faithful to his partner and wholly the sort of person you would very much like to live next to and he very much enjoyed his morning routine. It made him feel safe and in control. What he did not enjoy though was the short walk from the roasted Bean to the underground.
Every morning, stood on the corner just a short walk in the direction he was headed, stood a man who was very much everything that Harley was not. Under the dirt and long matted beard he was probably in his mid-fifties, but his blackened teeth and dark sallow eyes made it hard to tell. He would stand quite still holding a small polystyrene cup hoping for a few spare coins from the passers by, his clothes stained and torn and the stench of a lifetime of living on the streets filled the air around him.
As the morning masses streamed past with blank faces he watched them go by, mumbling to himself under his breath, only ever becoming animated at the sight of Harley. His eyes wide, spittle rained from his rancid mouth and he would spew a tirade of Old testament hate and bile as Harley approached, only stopping once Harley had crossed the busy road and disappeared down the tube station steps.
Harvey’s stomach lurched. “Here we go” he thought to himself.
“The people of Samaria must bear the guilt because they have rebelled against God” he shouted, pointing at Harley, “they will fall by the sword and their little ones will be dashed to the ground and their pregnant women ripped open!”
An old woman in a brown coat crossed the street to avoid him. Harley had tried that in the past but the man always followed him and he had given up. He had even tried different routes but the man always seemed to be there waiting, no matter which way he went.
Harley kept his eyes down and continued walking. The man seemed particularly vile today.
“See the day of the lord is coming” he continued as Harley drew close, his eyes wide and wild and a cruel smile spreading across his face “a day of wrath and anger and the infants will be dashed to pieces before their eyes and their wives will be violated!”
Harley was now directly opposite him. The stench of piss filled his nostrils.
“Look at me boy” he snarled as Harley walked past, launching into another rant. “He will chastise you 7 times and you shall eat the flesh of you sons and daughters” he screamed.
Harley’s heart raced, his fists clenched. He never responded, ever, but today felt different. He turned and look damn you”ed at the man, continuing to walk slowly backwards.
“Shut the hell up!” Harley shouted back, “leave me alone damn you.”
The man laughed loudly and took a step towards him. “Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock” he shouted grinning broadly and stabbing a filthy finger in Harley’s direction.
Harley continued moving backwards as the man sped up walking towards him.
“You’re mine boy” he yelled.
Harley was about to tell the man to go fuck himself but the words never got from his brain to his mouth. He heard a scream as he stepped backwards from the step and fell into the road.
The last thing that went through the mind of Harley Silver before his light was extinguished forever was the cackle of the man’s laughter.
It was different though, and for the briefest of moments he thought it sounded almost happy…
Photo courtesy of Leroy Skalstad @ Pixabay
More stuff? It isn’t all like that…Blanketed in bliss
Faeries: The long winter – Part 2
Another day another limerick.
This week…The lunchtime limerick subject will be desire or something kind of inappropriate.
Celibate, destined to be
Betrothed and in marriage set free
But it came to an end
When he banged her best friend
And said “join us babe, let’s make it three”
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
I set myself a challenge this week…
Fatties in space – The Poem. Not for kiddies
Image courtesy of me
You know the drill. 2 Words, haiku, go!
You know the drill. 2 Words, haiku, go!
Thanks to TJ and his fab prompts!
She feels the earth move
Lost in passion sweet embrace
Whirlwind, take cover!
Obvious wasn’t it.
Whirlwind one night stand
Symptoms indicate it’s crabs
right back down to earth
I know, uncalled for.
You reap the whirlwind
Emilio Estevez rocks!
Best western on earth
You never saw that coming though did you. Emilio Estevez in a haiku :). Can you name the western?
More shenanigans?
Fatties in space – The Poem. Not for kiddies
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Lets see whether a daily haiku works shall we?
Each night, around midnight a haiku based on things close to my heart.
Donald hates protest
Loves to Grab the headlines, and
your wife’s vagina
I imagine this will be the pretty poor standard, so don’t get your hopes up.
Want to read something different? These are all quite funny I think.
Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge No. 49 #Haiku #Tanka #Haibun: Soar & Wait
Just how much could I do in one week?
If my wife sees this then she might remark, “Not a lot”, and that would probably be fair.
At the outset of the week I set myself a challenge of getting onto WordPress a lot of the ideas I had stored up and to just see what I was capable of spewing out over 7 days. In addition to writing I also set myself the challenge of reading as much as I could too. A kind of total immersive experience.
As a bit of context, I have a job and a family and other commitments so it was very much a case of seeing what I could fit in where. I do a typical 8-4 in a large bank running a team of programmers, the boys have rugby Wednesday and Thursday evenings, it was my nephew’s birthday on Wednesday and I didn’t get out of work until well after 6 on Friday. Oh, most of Saturday and Sundays are spent doing something rugby related somewhere in Yorkshire too – so time is at a premium.
So how did it go?
Well by the time this is published I think I will have managed in the region of 27 posts during the week and have read somewhere in the ball park of 300 other peoples articles.
When it comes to reading it was simply a case of getting up one hour early each day (at least) and spending from 5.30 am to 6.30 am reading, liking, commenting or sometimes skipping over other peoples work. A week or two ago I actually read every single post in The Daily Prompt. Over 200. I think it was on flavour.
There was some great stuff that I have taken inspiration from, new people I am now following and I seem to have picked up new followers on the way. If I had something constructive or really enjoyed a piece I said so, I didn’t just constantly like, I tried very much to engage in what I was doing and with the author.
As for writing, it was very much a case of being disciplined and creative with my time.
I planned the week, did a spreadsheet of what I wanted to do each day and tracked it day by day. Many of my pieces were related to weekly challenges from other bloggers so knowing what came out when was key.
So after a week I seem to have produced :
Each night I would try grab an hour or more after the kids were in bed, and if I was helping them with their homework I would perhaps write when I was doing that – either in my note book or on my tablet. I’ve watched less TV too. Something had to give.
At work I was more disciplined about taking a lunch break and would use 30 to 40 minutes writing. I will also admit to writing a fair few limericks on some of the more tedious calls I have to attend from time to time.
One morning I took the youngest to tutoring which is 45 minutes, and in that time as I waited I managed to write the outline for 3 more short stories, so waste not want not.
I then proceeded to post 3 or 4 a day. Was it necessary? Could I have stored them up? I simply wanted to write, I wasn’t really bothered by those sort of thoughts. I may post nothing this next week, and if that’s the case then so be it.
As for the numbers, not something I spend a lot of time worrying about, but it was by far my best week ever. I do know I had more likes, comments, views and visitors than any other week, and I don’t think my quality was greatly diminished – I still tried to do my best with the things I tackled.
I did think I might have been short of inspiration for so many pieces but I was surprised by just how much I still had left by the end of the week – I think I now have more ideas that I started with. It feels to me like the creative process, once stimulated, really can run away with itself.
That’s just my experience though, I have only been doing this for a few months so don’t claim to know much about this lark – I only know I enjoy doing it.
Michael
Another day another limerick.
On being someone’s prison wife…
A posh boy addicted to coke
Stole a car and ran over a bloke
When the cops found him out
“My dads rich” he did shout
pretty mouth like his, jail is no joke
Happy Sunday!
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
Image courtesy of me
Why? Why not? It’s been a good few hours since I published a limerick…
Given that it is Sunday, I thought I’d just try a few more limericks as have had a load rattling around in my head and as much as I like the lunch time limerick I have more vomiting forth that a single one a day…
A serial killer called Ned
Obeyed voices that screamed in his head
Then one day he just changed
And is no more deranged
Now writes food blogs on WordPress instead
(yeah…you know who you are don’t you 😉)
There once was a doctor from Goole
Specialised in the gastric, no fool
Made a fortune in bums
Bowels, Intestines and tums
And continuing study of stool
Sorry, it is not my fault Goole and stool rhyme…
A Bethlehem chap, healed the blind
Said be nice to each other and kind
Romans proved they were boss
Nailed him up on a cross
But was raised from the dead, never mind
Maybe one more
Chap from Mosul played drums in a band
so the Taliban cut off each hand
But it all worked out fine
Said his wife, “it’s divine
Cos for scratching my back your hook’s grand”
Right think that’ll do. I’ve used the hooked hands twice this week. Hmmm.
Have a good Sunday.
More goodness?
There’s no love like the love a mother has for her baby right?
Written in response to Michelle’s writing prompt which you can see here.
A shrill scream pierced the night, and had Adam scrambling from his bed before he was even properly awake, heart racing. He flew from the bedroom calling for his wife, his head spinning and not daring to guess what had happened.
“Oh god, In here” came her voice, barely recognisable, “I’m in the babies room.”
Adam ran to the room and stopped in the doorway. Jane was sat in the dark, quite still in an old rocking chair in the corner. In her arms, wrapped in the blanket her mother had bought for them, was the baby.
He hurried over to her. “What’s wrong, is she okay?” he pulled back the blanket that he could see her face. He knew straight away that she was not. Her eyes were wide open, unblinking, and her expression unchanging and her body motionless. “Jesus, her eyes Jane – what’s happened.”
Jane couldn’t reply, she simply sat holding the bundle tightly in her arms.
Adam took a closer look and realised that all the colour had disappeared from her eyes and they were completely black.
“I’ll call an engineer” he said placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “It will be okay Jane.”
“I don’t want a fucking engineer” she screamed, “I want my baby!”
“Jane please” Adam said, not really knowing what to say, “They’ll know what to do”.
He didn’t wait for a response, and after a few minutes returned to the room. “They’re on the way it won’t be long at all” he said, but she was not listening, she simply sat staring at her baby, crying.
After what seemed like an eternity a tall man in a sharp black suit arrived at the house and Adam lead him upstairs to the nursery.
“Mrs Goodwin” he said, reaching for the bundle in her arms, “time is of the essence, Please.”
Not looking up she allowed the stranger to take her baby and watch him leave the room with it.
“I will be in the next room” he said, “If you could just wait in here I will need to run full diagnostics.”
Adam stood next to his wife, nodded, and watched the engineer take the baby from the room.
Neither of them spoke, simply waiting for the engineer’s return. Adam reached for his wife’s hand but she pulled away sharply.
“Mr Goodwin” came a voice “Could you come through please.”
Jane looked up at him and nodded. “I’m okay. Go” she said.
Entering the guest bedroom his stomach lurched as he saw his daughter lying on the bed, a panel in the side of her head open and a connection from her head leading to a small tablet that lay on the bed next to her.
“What’s happened “He asked calmly, “what’s happened to our daughter.”
The Engineer paused struggling for words.
“I …” he hesitated. He needed to put this into terms Adam would understand. “There’s been a catastrophic failure” he said rubbing his chin “the main learning core went into overload and the emergency backup overwrote the last good file and we’ve lost everything. All her memories and learning are gone”
He waited for Adam to reply but Adam stood silent.
“I’ve checked for an offsite backup but it looks like you never paid for the service – so I have nothing to work with.”
“We only just had enough for the basic model” Adam said, his face now pale. “I thought it would be okay” he continued “I never told Jane, we just wanted the baby so badly. Surely there must be something we can do?”
The engineer placed his tablet back into his bag and packed his tools away. “Mr Goodwin, I am sorry sir” he said, “but there really is nothing that can be done to restore her to her last known state. The best I can do is to flush the bios and do a factory reset but you will have to restart the whole programme and the last three months learning will be lost. Even then I cannot guarantee this won’t happen again. You should have taken the extended warranty sir.”
More stuff?
Pesky butterflies – Weekly Weather Challenge: Hurricane
A generous portion of life – #Writephoto Challenge
Photo courtesy of Kuloser @ pixabay
Fatties in space returns but not quite as you might have wanted.
You really should read this first before proceeding, but you don’t have to – it will just make more sense if you do..I am not ready for the full story but thought I would start exploring story lines through the medium of poetry.
It’s a tale of the round, and the girthy who found
a real love, one that’s true , one that’s strong
and the passion they share, but they’re rather aware
that they just cannot ‘go’ for that long.
For rotund they both are and alas the pair far
From in shape, ‘less that shape is a ball
He has always been big from when he was a kid
And she got real fat after a fall
So both desperate to please one another and tease
In the bedroom they try to delight
So as well as whipped cream for this sexy young team
Nacho cheese and choc pudding tonight
But they try none the less, she fits into a dress
Far too small for a gal of her size
but he gazes with love, says “it fits like a glove”
Then devours her like burger and fries
He heaves up his full frame, and she calls out his name
legs akimbo his hands on her hips
says “I fancy some kink, here what do you think?”
and eats onion rings from her nips
But before it begins pudding still on his chins
and the nacho cheese on her top lip
his legs started to cramp and she’s barely got damp
he tries hard but he’s losing his grip
“That’s enough” she cries out, “I do not want to shout
But I’ve needs and I need to be drilled”
So she books them a flight, taking off the next night
On the love ship, she will be fulfilled
For it heads into space at a jolly quick pace
They’ll be freed of this gravity curse
Yes it cost all they’ve saved, but they’re feeling depraved
And she wants to dress up as a nurse
So next time I will tell, and use words such as swell
And engorge and perhaps Ill use thrust
And Ill tell a bit more and you might just adore
The next verse in this tale of fat lust
More stuff? No? I understand…
Another day another limerick.
Okay, enough offending people. Back to life and stuff…
A cheeky young fellow from Rhyll
Thought his girlfriend was still on the pill
shed forgotten to take
What a costly mistake
Now they’re 18 with twins, what a thrill
Tomorrow…something else
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
Image courtesy of me
More haiku, and today I will be using the phrase “Dead hobo doorway”
The haiku, so proud, tight, formal. So little saying so much. Mostly though I like to defile them with the ridiculous.
The snap of the glove
Not completely unpleasant
Prostate checked out fine
Left his phone unlocked
Wife browses the internet
Sweating profusely
Waves crash like thunder
grey skies, cold waters, time flies
Makes me need a wee
Red dress and pale skin
Heads turn, hearts race, open mouthed
Wardrobe malfunction
Cold blue winter skies
Crisp snow covers city streets
Dead hobo doorway
More stuff from my brain meat…
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessness
Where once she would have expected to see the verdant greens of springtime, punctuated with the vibrant explosions of tulips, daffodils and bluebells, now only a blanket of white stretched as far as she could see and the trees she so cherished stood grey, silent and bare.
Kostromo slowly untangled herself from the thick oak roots that had freed her from the cold weight of the earth, and rubbing her eyes she got to her feet and stretched in the cold crisp afternoon air. Grey clouds hovered ominously in the distance and an icy wind blew flurries of snow about her feet. She attempted to spread her gossamer wings, glistening still with the finest of ice crystals, but they would not open.
The air was sharp and unfamiliar as she breathed, chilling her to her core, and as she became accustomed to the brightness once more she gazed out upon an world so very changed from the one she loved. She gasped, never had she seen such a sight.
“How long has it been this way Oak?” she asked.
“Too long faery” Oak mumbled, his voice seemed to vibrate inside of her “far too long indeed.”
Where once she would have expected to see the verdant greens of springtime, punctuated with the vibrant explosions of tulips, daffodils and bluebells, now only a blanket of white stretched as far as she could see and the trees she so cherished stood grey, silent and bare.
She began to speak but Oak cut her short. “Run Kostromo, you must run.” he growled.
With Oak’s warning still ringing in her ears she picked up the distant howl and bark of wolves. Wolves were never a good thing, and she was already moving as Oak’s voice rumbled deep inside her again “Run faery run!”
With everything still so foreign she raced through the snow as fast as she could in what she guessed was the opposite direction of the howls. The cold slowed her, deep drifts causing her to stumble as trees flashed by in a blur. Moving downhill, trees rising high on both sides, she could hear the very feint trickle of water as the ground levelled off in front of her.
Her breath blossomed as a swirling rose as she exhaled, her heart racing as she again attempted to spread her wings but still to no avail. Slumbering trees stirred as she pressed on, whispers of “faster” echoing in her head as her legs carried her onwards.
With the howls and barks now even closer she leapt over a fallen birch and looking up she caught a flash of a dark silhouette running along the hill top parallel to her. Instantly she knew they had caught her up and were now hunting her.
Heart pounding she ran and ran, straining to put distance between herself and the pursuing pack. She could sense them drawing in around her when recognised a familiar rocky outcrop ahead of her and knew instantly where she was. If only she could make it there she would be able to slip down inside the small opening she knew was at the base of it into which the river trickled into a large underground opening. Many times as a youngling she had crawled inside and fluttered down exploring the huge expanse below.
Focussed she raced, it was now close, and as she looked up to her right as she ran and saw a large grey female wolf tracking her and heading down the hill towards her. She looked left, more were there but she could not see them yet. A howl sounded as stumbled in a drift, but in an instant she was back on her feet and focussed on nothing but the base of the outcrop which was now so very close.
“Faster Faery” she heard in her head as she raced past a tall Elm.
The female had travelled down the hill and was now not far behind her and catching her fast.
Not long to the opening Kostromo told herself, her heart pounding in her chest. The grey female bounded through the snow behind her and was now joined by a second larger male, teeth bared and eyes dark. Kostromo could hear jaws snapping, but she was now almost at the opening. It was there, she could see it.
One final burst and she dived for the small entrance, head first and burst through the snow bank and into the hole, the wolves snapping at her heels. She slid inside on the frozen surface of the river bed, gasping, lungs bursting and the wolves growling and snarling, heads thrust into the opening but too large to pass through.
“I’m safe” she thought to herself as she continued to slide and then in a moment she was falling uncontrollably, downwards, into the darkness.
Photo Courtesy Of Kellepics@pixabay
Want other different stuff?
something terrible happens in this one
In this one there is a girl in the rain
and this might make you laugh but maybe you wont admit it
oh and this one i am rather proud of
My response to the Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge inspired by the photo above. 99 words.
My response to the Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge inspired by the photo above. 99 words.
Andromeda’s orbital engines hummed as Cole and Yin walked towards the marker on their heads up display, helmet lights slicing through the darkness.
Yin stooped and placed a soil sample in his analyser, noticing a pair of ash and cobweb encrusted shoes placed side by side. The map showed a school had once stood here. He poked the cobwebs with a gloved finger, and a small spider scuttled along the silky strands.
“Guess this place is all yours now mate” he said sadly, his helmet display blinking orange.
“Cole, radiation spike” Yin shouted, “get back to the shuttle, now!”
Want more stuff?
Armitage – Part 2Armitage – Part 2
PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter
Another day another limerick.
One last one I think, as if I haven’t offended enough people already this week.
A Jewish lass, Emily fisk
put her eternal life greatly at risk
with shrimp mussels and cod
she’d offended her god
Now each day she eats hot lobster bisque
Bit ropey but it’ll do…
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
Image courtesy of me
Crow shuffled atop the pole and glanced across at sparrow. He was not a fan of small birds, he found them most tiresome with all of their constant cheeping and chirping.
“A very good morning” said sparrow as she alighted on the telephone wire just a short distance from crow, “Lovely day isn’t it.”
Crow shuffled atop the pole and glanced across at sparrow. He was not a fan of small birds, he found them most tiresome with all of their constant cheeping and chirping.
“Is it?” he said. Crow rather liked his peace and quiet.
“Oh indeed, indeed” Sparrow chirped excitedly.
“And why is that then?” Crow asked, not at all interested.
Sparrow flapped her wings excitedly then settled back onto the telephone wire. “Well it seems that Owl said that he was told by Frog that it will rain later today, and you know what that means don’t you Crow?”
“Go on” said crow
“Worms” exclaimed sparrow “juicy, chubby, delicious worms.”
“Is that so?” replied crow as he watched the girl with the fat bottom and her dog cross the farm yard below and then surveyed the sky. “Doesn’t look like rain to me” he said quite matter of fact.
Sparrow looked about, the sky was blue and there barely a cloud to be seen.
“But Owl said…” said sparrow trailing off, her dark eyes scanning the sky for any signs of rain. “Does that mean there won’t be worms?”
“Maybe there will be rain, maybe there won’t” said Crow with some pleasure “but if you ask me then I would say that no, there will not be any juicy fat worms today for you sparrow.”
“Oh” said sparrow now quite sad. “I was looking forward to some juicy fat worms”, and with that she flew off in search of breakfast.
“Maybe next time sparrow” shouted Crow after her, smiling a quite wicked smile as he watched the fat bottomed girl and dog return from feeding the chickens. Crow did not like dog or the fat bottomed girl either. The girl ruffled dog’s head as they reached the farm house.
“Better get my coat girl” she said as she passed inside, the dog barking excitedly at the thought of a day on the tractor “lots of rain forecast this afternoon and I don’t want to get too wet.”
I wrote this for the carrot ranch 99 word challenge but forgot to post it.
I wrote this for the carrot ranch 99 word challenge but forgot to post it. Its a 99 word challenge in response to the picture above. You should check it out, its s rather good site. Ill post it anyway, waste not want not…
Harold stood and watched the waves slap hypnotically against the shingle beach.
“Looks cold” Harold said.
“It’ll be fine” the voices replied.
One step forward, the waves lapping at his feet
“Do it” the voices urged, “do it now, jump!”
Two steps back. No, this wasn’t the right time.
“Get it over with Harold, now.” They pressed.
Fear gripped, three steps back. “This is wrong, I don’t want to do it anymore, I want to live” he cried.
He turned and ran straight into his father “Goodness” he said, “It’s ok Harold, maybe you’ll get your feet wet tomorrow”
More stuff…my stuff bucket overrunneth…
Your lunchtime limerick 10/9/17
I don’t have a dog called Caper – Daily prompt
Another day another limerick.
Continue my limericks on the fall from grace…
A Hindu lass hailing from Neath
caused her family much heartache and grief
and dishonour and shame
to the family name
As she sneakily gorged on roast beef
Back tomorrow with one last one I think
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
Image courtesy of me
Edgar stood looking up at the dark building stretching up into the night and thought how very much like stars the tiny windows looked, and he thought of his Grandfather.
The challenge was to write something using the photo using between 75 and 175 words. I came in at 173. You can see the challenge details here.
Edgar stood looking up at the dark building stretching up into the night and thought how very much like stars the tiny windows looked, and remembering his Grandfather he smiled. Even though it was so long ago he could still recall how he would sit on his lap and listen to the stories about the times before the stars went out.
In fact, before he was recycled he spoke of very little else, his mind frail and his memories just fragments of what they had once been.
In those last days he would sit on the small balcony overlooking the sprawling choking metropolis, his long empty flowerpots a reminder of a time when the sun still shone, and he would curse those that had thought only of themselves and had let this happen.
Still smiling he slowly climbed the cold stone steps for his own recycling appointment, his heart full of the memories of that wonderful old man, and wondered whether he might soon see him again where the stars still shone brightly.
More stuff?
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessness
https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/
Photo courtest of Pamela Canepa
I blame the United Nations for the quality of these haiku…
So sat at lunch Tuesday 19th of September and I thought I would scribble a few haiku, as one does. Unfortunately on the TV behind me is Donald Trump at the UN and my intention to write of nature and butterflies and waterfalls and all manner of gorgeous natural wonderment ended up as what you read below. I’m not even American so not sure why I care, perhaps it is because he is so vile. Anyway, lesson learned is that your environment can have a huge impact on what you are able to write.
I then spent much of the rest of the day swearing at inanimate objects.
Donald at the UN
Flapping gums and tiny hands
Blah blah blah blah blah
Cuddly Korean
With your nuclear arsenal
And your dog soufflé
Rancid politics
Women ought to be in charge
Men are such morons
That is all I managed before punching a kitten in the face and making a pregnant lady cry, so foul was my demeanour.
More stuff?
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
… I had suggested, and I thought quite wittily, that she fetch me a sandwich and a nice cup of tea …
I am just reposting this so I don’t lose it. It was my first ever post less than 3 months ago but I really want to use that post as my blog intro and for the life of me I cannot work out how to do that so I am rehousing this one. Sorry to clog up your feed with it.
Michael
I have never enjoyed Tuesdays. Looking back at the significant moments in my life I am pretty certain that were they plotted on a chart of some description – perhaps a rather nice exploded pie chart – not one of those milestones would appear after a Monday but before a Wednesday.
I recall quite clearly my first kiss and it was on a Friday afternoon in late summer, as far from Tuesday as one might hope to get. My children were most definitely not Tuesday babies, preferring instead to squeeze their way into the work on a Wednesdays and Friday respectively and I married for the first time on a glorious Saturday in July and the second time it was a rather bleak Friday afternoon in March. I could attempt to find a milestone moment on a Tuesday but I shall not because there simply aren’t any. Of that I am certain. I do not, therefore, hold out a great deal of hope as I put pen to paper, commencing with it as I am on a Tuesday evening in early July.
Negative it may well seem, and perhaps I would agree that It is hardly the attitude with which to embark on any new endeavour, but such is my outlook as I sit here in the darkness typing. “So why type?” I hear you ask. Well the answer to that is rather quite simple. My wife suggested it might help me unburden myself and provide me an outlet for things inside that would well be far better out and perhaps prove a route to obtaining a positivity which I apparently quite often lack. I had suggested, and I thought quite wittily, that she fetch me a sandwich and a nice cup of tea which I was also lacking at that precise moment in time – but I received only one of her special withering looks and spent a rather uncomfortable evening in the spare bedroom – sandwichless and parched.
Whilst I make no assertions that this is in fact anything other than late night ramblings, were I to consider this something more poetic and meaningful then as creative journeys go this is simply a first step. Perhaps the journey has not yet begun and this is actually only the packing of a small overnight bag. If this is the only thing I ever write then it could actually be the metaphorical equivalent of picking up an exotically illustrated brochure from the travel agents which I ended up leaving on the bus home and then deciding that actually I won’t go abroad this year and will instead potter around the house and maybe build a small wall in the garden.
Not that we have a travel agents. That closed down when the rift opened. As did most things around here. If there is one thing that I am certain of it is the fact that unless the univers decides to undo that which it has done then at no time soon will I be packing a bag – whether overnight or otherwise – to go anywhere because there simply is no longer anywhere to go to.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tea/
Here we go again. I am going to be serious this week. Feel my haiku!
Here we go again. I am going to be serious this week. Feel my haiku! Thanks as ever to Colleen for her prompts. Check her blog out out here.
This weeks words are Gift and Song.
Intoxicating, lost
in the heady gift of song
melting to her voice
or maybe
thanks, the gift of song
an itunes voucher from gran
My phone’s an android
And back to serious
Song bird, gilded cage
Trapped, craving the blue expanse
I gift her freedom
Then back to silly, using Serenade instead of song
She smiles, crimson cheeks
He serenades from below
Dad’s Chamber pot thrown
And one last Serious one
truly you’re a gift
you fill my heart with such song
My children my life
Ok ok one last silly one, for balance…
other worldly voice
Children crying dogs howling
clown under your bed
Think that’s quite enough for one week…
More shenanigans?
More miserable and inappropriate limericks – Not for the kiddies
End of days #writephoto challenge
Another day another limerick.
On the matter of losing one’s faith…continued
A Muslim chap hailing from York
had a secretive yearning for pork
so he gave up the life
shaved, de-shrouded his wife
gorging bacon and beans with a spork.
Tomorrow there will be beef…
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
Image courtesy of me
Afterwards 