Friday Flash Fiction
  • Home
    • About Friday Flash Fiction
  • 100-Word Stories
  • Longer Stories
  • Poetry
  • Authors
    • A-C
    • D-F
    • G-I
    • J-L
    • M-O
    • P-R
    • S-V
    • W-Z
  • Submissions
    • 100-Word Submissions
    • 500-Word Submissions
    • Poetry Submissions
    • How to complete the Entry Form
    • Writing Good Flash Fiction
    • Appeals/Feedback Request
    • Contact FFF
    • Technical Stuff >
      • Terms & Conditions
      • GDPR Compliance
      • Duotrope

Summertime, by Marjan Sierhuis

1/7/2022

10 Comments

 
Birds are heard singing
Fragrant blooms perfume the air
Isn't summer grand?

10 Comments

Lady on Whitmore Bay, by Guy Fletcher

1/7/2022

1 Comment

 
Picture
Early on a summer's morning
I view a middle-aged woman who halts
as she wanders over the golden sands
of magical Whitmore Bay.
She makes the sign of the cross
softly talking to herself
and then she's on her way again
to the sound of a seagull's lament.
I saunter to the water's edge
observing placid June waves sizzle
and stars which seem to sparkle in the sea
then venture to Marco's Cafe
where the same lady sits as if a ghost,
maudlin eyes fixed on the South Wales coast.

1 Comment

Avuncular Ambrose, by Mimi Grouse

1/7/2022

8 Comments

 
Avuncular Ambrose woke up with the crows
And went to bed with the sun.
He was gentle and kind, with a brilliant mind,
And his stories were second to none.
He had nephews and nieces who loved him to pieces
As he talked of the seven seas,
While the beasts of the land ate out of his hand
And the birds called his name from the trees.
But Avuncular Ambrose, who woke up with the crows,
Was fragile and tired and old,
So one sweet summer night, by the silver moonlight,
The Earth sang farewell to his soul.
8 Comments

The Sound of Sight, by J. Iner Souster

24/6/2022

1 Comment

 
She lay unrested, cursed with eyes that see beyond the faculties
of sight. Visual perceptions of colours and light tell stories
as notes from some long-forgotten instrument.
Surrounding sounds from forests, early waking mornings,
and cities' eternal sleepless nights become the only music she understands. The chattering of life's personalities
scores the chorus of a forever-changing song
Watching as a gorgeous ascending moon
serenades the earth, singing with its charms of planetary influences
Leisurely, floating upward, and endlessly in its melodies
Building bridges of reality from absurdities and singularities
Terminally unique in its translations and orchestrations
Forever perpetually grand in dignities' desires,
thought, often feeble in the act, continuously subsiding the wildfire lost within. One shall be a dream while the other is simply a memory
Forever welcoming, all of consciousness and transcendent symphonies.
1 Comment

Clouds, by Cheah Yin Mee

24/6/2022

1 Comment

 
What if there were no clouds?
No swathes of soft, silky sheets,
no clusters of cauliflower cumulus,
no wandering wisps of cirrus,
No threatening tufts of cumulonimbus?
Instead, just a layer of flat clear blue
stretched out in a placid panorama.
Would the world be clearer?
Would we see better?
Do clouds obscure what we
want to see or do they simply
shield us from what could be?
1 Comment

Couplings, by Myram Huey

24/6/2022

1 Comment

 
jekyll meets hyde
bonnie meets clyde
& the rest, as they say,
is jackanory
1 Comment

Open Arms, by Marjan Sierhuis

24/6/2022

10 Comments

 
One can always hope
for a world filled with love
so greet with open arms

10 Comments

Twilight, by Guy Fletcher

24/6/2022

2 Comments

 
Picture
Frances Farmer was never comfortable
as a Hollywood star preferring the stage,
her left-wing views at odds
with this shallow glitzy world.
She was afflicted with depression, drank too much
and one of America's greatest stars
spent bleak years behind psychiatric bars.

She had the beauty of Helen of Troy
but she was living a lie
driving her to rage and despair
yet in the twilight of her existence
she penned poetry and painted,
an inner peace she would finally find
casting aside...the demons in her mind.

2 Comments

A Midwinter’s Birthnight: A Tanka for My Family, by Michael Leach

24/6/2022

1 Comment

 



​My sister’s party

lights another cold, dark June
night of the solstice.
Warm thoughts linger on loved ones
who couldn’t be at our sides.
Picture
1 Comment

Rose-Tinted Pacific, by Sterling Warner

24/6/2022

3 Comments

 
Loving heads bow under magenta skies
bright sun muted behind a long fuchsia veil.

Glancing at tidepools, an arm in arm couple
examines patiently shellfish waiting for high tide.

Temporally land-locked, surfperch commit
saltwater suicide after birthing fingerlings.

Seagulls circle the Pacific shoreline like vultures
scavenging lifeless forms, cleaning up beaches.

Waves roll in a series, cresting highest at seven,
reclaiming all sand puddles under an ice moon.
3 Comments

A Major City of the World, by David Dumouriez

24/6/2022

3 Comments

 
In a dome of petty noise,
Our elbows cut the air
To nowhere. Glorying in the sight
Of dazzled eyes, we rise and rise ...

3 Comments

Elvis Graces Bendigo, by Michael Leach

17/6/2022

4 Comments

 
A respectful reply to the Florence + The Machine song ‘Morning Elvis’, written by Florence Welch & Dave Bayley.
I think of spring up
in Memphis & feel autumn
here in Bendigo…
I’ve ne’er travelled to Memphis
yet have just been to Graceland.

(And if you've never heard Florence's simply glorious voice, prepare yourself for a treat... – Ed)
4 Comments

Where Are You, Dudley Moore? by David Dumouriez

17/6/2022

4 Comments

 
Where are you, Dudley Moore?
The slightly uncombed hair?
The smile the ladies loved
that quivered there between
the last half-stifled voice,
the unexpected next remark?
The hands that more than
trumped the feet; that played
for our amusement or delight?
Those many parts died separate
deaths, were lost, until the whole
itself was gone, evaporated
by the force that made it -
the great interrogation point
inscribed again in one short span!
4 Comments

Flowers, by Malvina Perova

17/6/2022

8 Comments

 
When the war puts against the wall
Your hopes and dreams
And shoots them in cold blood,
You stop taking colours of the world
From ordinary mud.
You think,
What is the point of joy or glooming
And doing all that you do?
What is the point of flowers blooming?
But hey,
They bloom

Picture
Picture
8 Comments

Boring Weekend, by Alex Blaine

17/6/2022

4 Comments

 
Plotting
to kill . . .

And your day?

4 Comments

Bespectacled Beryl, by Mimi Grouse

17/6/2022

8 Comments

 
Bespectacled Beryl was simply a peril
With her nose always stuck in a book.
Unlike other girls, all perfume and pearls,
She gave not a care how she looked.
She studied and learned until her brain burned
With knowledge and wisdom and culture,
And the Bullies In Charge, when she was at large,
Watched their tyranny stagger and falter.
So Bespectacled Beryl, always a peril,
Taught her sisters and daughters as well;
And an army was formed of women informed
Who demolished the fiends' Citadel.

8 Comments

Sea View, by Guy Fletcher

17/6/2022

3 Comments

 
I can hear the roar of the untamed sea
as I stand on this eroding cliff top.
The cafe where I drank many a tea
has recently been demolished,
smashed into pieces by a bulldozer
and on this glorious day painted blue
mourn the loss of the cafe called Sea View.

The street is now a road to nowhere
severed by the erosion
which creeps like cancer across the land
with some houses now in the firing line,
a death sentence from the wind and sea.
Seagulls screech a lament to the cafe
as the coastline retreats...day after day.

3 Comments

A Summer Treat, by Marjan Sierhuis

17/6/2022

7 Comments

 
A warm summer's day
Savor the watermelon
Juices drip off your chin
7 Comments

The Dancing Hours, by Adrian McRobb

11/6/2022

2 Comments

 
Picture
The warped boards sprung from cleats
no longer support the dancers twirls
a chandelier long ago crashed to the floor
it's broken shards reflecting dark corners
upstairs corridors echo to idle chatter
the sweeping staircase carpet, mouse nibbled
curtains sag on rusty pelmets, moth holed
marble fireplace grey-black in ancient soot
a dream of chiffon and black leather pumps
an old clock, it's broken cogs now brass debris
lighter shades where ancestors frowned down
peeling plaster blows in an invisible breeze
clockwork dancers move in an endless waltz
while cracked glasses clink, in empty parody
all gone now, beyond the reach of time...
2 Comments

Ailuropoda Melanoleuca, by Michael Leach

10/6/2022

3 Comments

 
Two giant pandas in central Adelaide
spend their days laying and wandering in shade.
When they chomp on their bamboo,
they’re the highlight of the zoo.
The world dreams of the day their baby is made.
3 Comments

Beauty and Hope, by Guy Fletcher

10/6/2022

2 Comments

 
In the rubble of a tortured town
a girl dons a prom dress
as red as all the blood spilled.
She stands defiant, an awe-inspiring sight,
a beaming light in a cruel world
just a few moments on a television screen,
beauty and hope amongst the obscene.

They've broken all the buildings
including the school as well
but one thing they haven't destroyed
is the indomitable human spirit.
An aura of love shines from the girl,
just a few moments on a television screen,
beauty and hope...amongst the obscene.
2 Comments

A Fellow Creature, by David Dumouriez

10/6/2022

2 Comments

 
I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there -
Your body scarce the thickness of my hair.
I didn’t mean to hasten your demise,
To wash you down the swirling hole of life.
But though I cannot turn around your loss,
If it compensates a living thing that was,
I’ll mention that your end foretells my own:
Destroyed by something bigger and unknown.
2 Comments

At What Point, by Alex Blaine

3/6/2022

5 Comments

 
At what point
is the point
of no return?
At what point
did the fire
in my eyes
sizzle out?
Just when did
the ash turn
cold as snow?
5 Comments

Political Palette, by Michael Leach

3/6/2022

1 Comment

 
free-to-air coverage
of the Aussie election:
red, blue, teal, green

1 Comment

Funeral Procession on the River, by Guy Fletcher

3/6/2022

4 Comments

 
Picture
"The Fighting Temeraire", by J. M. W. Turner
I stare long and deeply at the painting
of the Fighting Temeraire
gaining fame not for deeds in battle
but immortalised by Turner's brush
being towed slowly by a tug:
funeral procession on the river,
glory days long gone...nothing lasts forever.

The sails are lowered permanently,
the vessel painted grey as if a ghost
and I wonder if old sailors are watching
from the banks of the iconic Thames
as it sadly heads for the scrap heap.
I feel the ship has a soul shedding tears
as the moment of her destruction nears.
4 Comments
<<Previous

    Poetry

    This is the section where fiction prose becomes something else. We still expect the poems to be short, though – sonnets, perhaps, or around that length at the very most.

    Poems submitted should be
    no longer than 160 words
    and contain
    no more than 16 lines.

    100 words remains the approximate target.

    Please submit using the Poetry Submissions Page.


    Picture

    Archives

    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014

Picture
Website by Platform 36