Friday Flash Fiction

Bipolarity, by Adrian McRobb

25/9/2020

Walking through paintings
admiring the abstracts
she tries to decode
wishing to emulate

the room distorts
muted whispers
become louder
the room sways
and tilts
white dots swim
in her vision
like polystyrene beads
on water
feeling unbearably light

later in the cloakroom
sitting on the lid
cradling her head
mutterings louder now
thoughts racing

the paintings return
strangely twisted
bent frames, paint
running out the corners
of her mind...

1 Comment

September Sunrise, by Guy Fletcher

25/9/2020

1 Comment

Clouds are breaking apart
as if sea ice in the sky.
The light has just risen
and the unseen sun paints the clouds
a most fantastic vivid pink,
there's a myriad covering the blue
Turner would have stood in awe at the view.

Blackbirds fly in formation
as if planes from Bomber Command
but this is a moving picture:
clouds transmute from pink to gold
and then the magic is over,
all is lost under a shroud of deep grey
for rain clouds have wiped the beauty away.

1 Comment

Leadership, by John Hancock

25/9/2020

1 Comment

“Invasion on my command”
The leader raised his hand.

“Sir, the latest report,
Please give it some thought

The blue planet, third in line
Uses customs about this time

Their Santa dressed in red
Delivers if you’re asleep in bed

His face is covered with long white hair
He sits all day in a big comfy chair

Orders are placed sitting on his knee
If you’re good he delivers for free

It’s all very secret, peeking’s not fair
On December 25 your order is there.”

“Invasion is cancelled, I’ll be in bed.
Have my pizza delivered instead.”

1 Comment

For Kith and Country, by Al Watt

18/9/2020

4 Comments

Silhouettes flutter on the skyline,
banners snap an’ flap boldly.
Stand firm hearty lads, stand firm.

The enemy carpet sweeps onward,
covering more and more land.
Hold fast bold men, hold fast.

Battle horns blare and trumpet.
Arrow clouds darken the sky.
Fight well heroes, fight well.

Valiant battle hymns sung,
to pounding shields of rhythm.
For kith and country, for kith and country.

Swords shriek from scabbards,
metal clangs, blood spills.
It’s done, the Devil’s work is done.

4 Comments

Words Count, by Adrian McRobb

18/9/2020

2 Comments

I should have said things to you, like..."hey mines a sandwich" but, that's not cool (even with Beetroot)

I should have said, "yours is the least expensive wine" but, it wasn't

I wanted to say, "hey-yay-and today" but, just mumbled "ok"

I wanted to say, your hair was nice and you smelt fine, my mouth wouldn't say it

I thought I could say...lots of nice things (if I was able) but, I couldn't

2 Comments

The Ancient Yew Tree, by Guy Fletcher

18/9/2020

2 Comments

In soft summer rain with dearest friends
I enter St. Andrew’s Churchyard, Kenn,
situated in the fine county of Devon.
Some epitaphs are erased from view
next to the red brick of the church.
Oh, so many ghosts over the years
have stepped inside here with both smiles and tears

but the yew tree commands centre stage,
maybe born at the time of the Saviour:
massive and ancient. I pose for a photograph
clambering up between its great branches
to touch history with awe.
Every quarter of an hour Sunday bells chime
yet the tree reaches further back in time.

2 Comments

The Mouse and the Snake, by Adrian McRobb

11/9/2020

2 Comments

A little mouse hopped out of his burrow one day
and decided to explore the hill and highway
while scurrying around in the grass, by the lake
he happened to meet up with a large long green snake
the snake thought ha! He would have a nice meal
thinking of how mouse fur in his tummy would feel
the mouse though, was of the other persuasion
racking his brain for a plan of 'not being eaten' evasion
just as the snake was getting ready to strike!
The mouse roared away, on a red motorbike...

2 Comments

Success, by Ian Fletcher

11/9/2020

3 Comments

Yes, you did it did
all you were meant
to do and more:
did well in school
got your degrees
your qualifications
the job the career
the promotions
the wife the kids
the pension plan
the nest egg for
your golden years.
Oh yes, you did it
did it all, did it all
to perfection.
What now?

3 Comments

Your Lie in April, by Alaric Erami

4/9/2020

1 Comment

They say there is beauty in music,

I can’t see what they mean

I play the notes, but I can't hear the sounds.

Like I'm at the bottom of the ocean,

My world had no color.

Until I met you.

I can hear the music you play.

My world took on color.

You took my heart and changed my world.

I had fun for the first time with you.

Until the day that you fell.

You tried to convince me you were fine.

But in the end.

It was Your Lie that fateful April.

That kept me sane.

1 Comment

Scafell Pike, by Adrian McRobb

4/9/2020

4 Comments

The Winter sunrise raises shadows
which as the light increases
race each other across the land
like fell runners they cross
lichen covered rocks and heather
with the speed of early morning sun
dropping down impossible drops
just as quickly climbing crags
accelerating with the mist burning light
black fingers caress the peaks
as if sculpting the land anew
but, inexorably the sunlight rises
shadows shrivel hiding in burrows
retreating from the stronger light
secreting themselves in rock fissures
dark hands resting for future labour
waiting for tomorrow when waking
they race across the fell again
each trying to win...

4 Comments

Imprisoned, by Paloma Lenz

4/9/2020

1 Comment

The sound:
imperious, piercing
It seeps in,
foul-smelling,
with no understanding
of time or interval
seizing all who hear it

1 Comment

Terrible Twos, by Mary Wallace

28/8/2020

14 Comments

Two wrongs, two too many drinks, too fast
Two cars, two children dead, two families ruined,
Too much loss, too much pain,
TOO MUCH GUILT
Two sad eyes, too too sad
Too much disappointment,
Too little sleep
Two arms empty for too, too long
Two separate lives
Today is too hard
Tomorrow stretches too long
Tonight
Two little bottles
To oblivion.

14 Comments

Loneliness, by Maria Tonu

28/8/2020

1 Comment

Loneliness.

Loneliness hurts.

Loneliness is punishment.

Loneliness increases frustration.

Loneliness are not treated by suffering.

Better alone than being hurt by an insensitive partner.

Loneliness gives you many lessons about you and the world.

Loneliness sets the values and prescribes them right ointment for the heart.

Every day, hundreds of lonely people fall asleep and wake up embracing only their own tears.

But, nevertheless, loneliness is the only honest platform from which you can dive into an extraordinary relationship or even a new destiny.

1 Comment

The End of Days, by Adrian McRobb

28/8/2020

2 Comments

Green man sends his Summer sprite
she spells trees to release leaves
touching bark with her wand
whispering to give stem ease

She flits amongst forest oaks
"its nearly Winter time"
so they lay Autumnal dresses
on the green sward to shine

Red, Orange, all fire colours
in every dazzling hue
shaking out their folds
in an eye popping view

Summer sprite is active
as seasons slip away
telling all her Dryads
which fashion to display

In Spring she is a young girl
in Summer a hazy dream
in Autumn she is a warning
in Winter a dread Ice Queen!

2 Comments

Chess Pieces, by David Atkinson

28/8/2020

0 Comments

"Chess is life in miniature": Garry Kasparov

Spreadeagled on garish towels,
the teenage girls on the tourist beach
are solar panels in the heat.
For their passion play they flaunt their props,
paperbacks and mobile phones.
Surf skiers drift in on languid waves,
breakers from the distant reef.

On the boardwalk the chess contestants
face off in silence. Matted hair,
dishevelled beards, tatty shirts.
Faces, fascia battered by the weather.
Holidaymakers assemble as seagulls for the showdown,
coffees donated by a spectator,
crimson lipstick and assertive sarong.

The barefoot aggressor moves his bishop,
smiles: "Checkmate".
His opponent surveys the sea;
for king and pawn alike the tide has run out.

0 Comments

Postmodern Communication, by David Atkinson

21/8/2020

The beach café, her eyes gaze down,
hair dances a tango in the fresh sea breeze.
The tang of espresso,
the brace of salt spray.

His face turned away, concentrates;
wind strokes four day stubble.
The sound of waves crashes up from the sand,
dachshund spreadeagled beneath them.

Hushed languor? Companionable silence?
Each stares at the glare
of a mobile phone.

The Donkey and the Tiger, by Adrian McRobb

20/8/2020

A Donkey met a Tiger
on his way home from work
so to confuse the issue
he suddenly started to twerk
the Tiger had never seen
a Donkey twerk before
completely forgetting to release
his might stripey roar
the Donkey twerked along the lane
hoping for a muse of escape
the Tiger followed close behind
his toothsome jaws agape
if against a Tiger
you'd like to stand a chance
it wouldn't be a bad idea
to break into a dance!

Now She's Gone, by Guy Fletcher

20/8/2020

Now she's gone he comes to view
her grave, carrying tulips,
speaking to her in tender tones
with eyes moist as morning dew.
This sickening newly found infatuation
a far cry from when she breathed
when he assaulted her with scornful words,
there was none of this adoration.

But she never existed at all,
the invention of a guilty mind
as he kisses her framed photograph
hanging as if gallows on the wall.
He pictures a modern Helen of Troy
yet this is an easy, maudlin love
and now she's gone he's convinced
the clear sorrow in her eyes...was joy.

Kilowatt Throne, by Adrian McRobb

14/8/2020

Chair sits
patience strong
wooden seat
electric song
lever pulled
volts arc
burning out
vital spark
20 amp
breaker bar
lights flicker
assigned hour
boiled brain
burnt skin
power drain
cured sin...

Luminescence, by Ana Marie Dollano

14/8/2020

The sun rays forth a glorious light
and filters through the trees.
It brings much joy and happiness
to the birds and the bees.

The light that burns forth from a candle
is enough to banish all doubt,
the flickering flame illuminates
even my darkest hour.

and shadows fail where there is light
that brightens up the gloom,
she clears the path of obscurity
and keeps me company.

Dame Edna's Tea Towels, by Adrian McRobb

7/8/2020

Tea towels dance a merry tune
wind whipped upon the line
all in different colours
keeping their separate time

some are multi coloured
some are souvenirs
some others are a bit holy
some are lauded by their peers

gingham ones are waltzing
souvenirs are pas-de-deux
holy ones are just worn out
reeling those from Edinburgh

whipping wet at cold faces
you pass and take a chance
they just take no notice
to absorbed in their dance

when westerlies are blowing
we hang our washing out
but beware the tea towels
as they gaily flap about!

A Young Man's Tears, by Guy Fletcher

7/8/2020

“If I could only but once, press her to my heart.” (Goethe)

Oh, young men and their misery,
the horror of unrequited love.
It’s been the same through the ages
illuminated by Goethe’s pages
where Werther’s heart is broken
by Charlotte who could save his soul,
over this obsession he has no control.

The Sorrows of Young Werther
lies by his torturing bed
as he transforms an ordinary girl
into Cleopatra or Helen of Troy.
But as you wither and locks turn grey
this painful infatuation fades
so this girl who caused a young man’s tears
I have not thought of…for many years.

Instep, by Elizabeth Parmeter

6/8/2020

Window down chair back,
Resting feet on the dashboard
Body stretched in restful sleep.
In long straightaways
Stolen glances
At her sleeping form.

A windowed reflection
Of curled toes,
Dancers feet
Superimposed on the road ahead.

With a smile, even in dreams
She dances.
Feet arch
Point
Curl
Turn. Highlighted in shifting shadows
Between glowing red taillights.

The Voice You Hear, by Gary Mark Belenke

6/8/2020

I cradled you in my arms

Your first vision

You kiss me goodbye

My last

After leaving this world

I will still be at your side.

I am the wind in your hair

when you feel a breeze,

I will protect you

when thunder rumbles and lightning flashes

I am the space between the notes and words

when you hear music or stories that touch your soul,

I fly at your side

as your heart soars,

I make you whole

when your heart breaks,

When the still small voice within you speaks

listen, I am the whisper

Body Bags for Bookmarks, by Juan Sicat

31/7/2020

Flow your blood, the strongman says,
As he washes his hands
Clean of any guilt.
Daring, only, for he holds the hilt.

The crows stand damning across the moor,
Where the bones glower at the rich
And smile at the poor.
To the wall, a man denied of sight

Sheathes his tongue—thankful
And without mourning
For the by-blows of gunshots and bloodlust.
Close your mouths, the strongman says,

As he suckles the ground, breastful, with the sweat
Of the toils of truth-making and of the unflinching face
Drawn, unbridled, over thumb-sized threats.
Flow your blood, the strongman says,

As he leaves his marks page-by-page.
Today's an empty stomach, a wrinkled brain;
And it shall hunger for the turning of the leaves--
The body bags speak of the ways to begin.

<<Previous

Bipolarity, by Adrian McRobb

September Sunrise, by Guy Fletcher

Leadership, by John Hancock

For Kith and Country, by Al Watt

Words Count, by Adrian McRobb

The Ancient Yew Tree, by Guy Fletcher

The Mouse and the Snake, by Adrian McRobb

Success, by Ian Fletcher

Your Lie in April, by Alaric Erami

Scafell Pike, by Adrian McRobb

Imprisoned, by Paloma Lenz

Terrible Twos, by Mary Wallace

Loneliness, by Maria Tonu

The End of Days, by Adrian McRobb

Chess Pieces, by David Atkinson

Postmodern Communication, by David Atkinson

The Donkey and the Tiger, by Adrian McRobb

Now She's Gone, by Guy Fletcher

Kilowatt Throne, by Adrian McRobb

Luminescence, by Ana Marie Dollano

Dame Edna's Tea Towels, by Adrian McRobb

A Young Man's Tears, by Guy Fletcher

Instep, by Elizabeth Parmeter

The Voice You Hear, by Gary Mark Belenke

Body Bags for Bookmarks, by Juan Sicat

Poetry

Archives