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
    • Contact FFF
    • Appeals/Feedback Request
    • Technical Stuff >
      • Terms & Conditions
      • GDPR Compliance
      • Duotrope

Biku, by Michael Leach

30/9/2022

 
dusk & fog
shroud the dirt path--
bike light

Carole Lombard's Ghost, by Guy Fletcher

30/9/2022

 
PictureCarole Lombard/Clark Gable in "No Man of Her Own"
Whom the Gods love die young they say
and alluring Carole Lombard was only 34
when her plane crashed in the Mojave desert.
She charmed the hearts of Americans
but tragedy cut her life short
leaving a devastated Clark Gable to grieve
and there are many people who believe

her spirit haunts the Pioneer Saloon
brought to earth by desert winds
and that cigar burns are a result
of Clark Gable etched with despair.
Well, I don't know but you can view her ghost
in films such as "To Be or Not to Be,"
I just pray her spirit...is roaming free.


Light, by Robert P. Bishop

30/9/2022

 
Fireflies in the night
lanterns on the footpath home
no moon overhead.

Australian Public Holidays, by Michael Leach

23/9/2022

 
I oft-times
find it difficult
to feel guiltless
about taking personal time
on Australian public holidays.
I sometimes
find it difficult
to keep my mixed opinions
on Australian public holidays
private
rather than public.
Each time,
I find myself
hoping all peoples
who feel loss
find solace.

Glee Club, by Robert Hunt

23/9/2022

 
Singing birds at dawn
Monastery chants resound
Arcadian glee

Remembering Oxwich Bay, by Guy Fletcher

23/9/2022

 
Picture
Yes, I remember Oxwich Bay:
a corridor of silver in the sea
and a sky as blue as the Sahara.
We ran into the inviting ocean
on that sun-blessed summer's day
laughing and without a care
and afterwards grimacing as breakers
rolled against us in the cold water.
We swam and I felt immortal,
no pain just the beauty of existence.
You stayed in longer than me
and I watched you emerge from the sea
brushing your hair back with a golden smile,
we were in Nirvana...for a while.

Fallen Walls and Wild Dreams, by Alex Blaine

23/9/2022

 
History tells us
that walls fall
Mystics tell fortunes
in teacups
Wild dreams of love
that missed
The sting of youth
being blind

Monostich, by David Dumouriez

23/9/2022

 
Beware of unsupported statements.

Lunar Silhouettes, by Sterling Warner

16/9/2022

 
Clear infatuation propels passionate arms
wraps one another in a cellophane romance;
groans and gasps pass through drawn shades
open vents, and tryst friendly hotel walls

advertising blissful unions disconcerting to those
who sleep alone, remembering nights and days
when gaiety echoed through their lives 24/7
watching solar eclipses though heroin shades
dancing among others under blood moons
making promises without regard for tomorrow.

Let carpe diem remind us of special people--
sacred places—where time stands still and lovers
pass no judgement beyond soothsayer prophecies,
black skies shuddering with jubilant sighs.

The Swan, by Adrian McRobb

16/9/2022

 
Unfettered at last from duty she skims the Royal lake
ceremonies done flying above the mourning queues
Westminster fades into distance her wings gather speed
protected by her own charter plumage flattens
a white arrow streaks solitary in blue, dark crags flash past
crossing the river heather beckons calling her back
Queen of the sky she owns the air rushing home to Balmoral...

Double Rainbow over Buckingham Palace, by Guy Fletcher

16/9/2022

 
Picture
(Photo courtesy of India Today)
The double rainbow is a rare event
but particularly relevant
as crowds gathered outside the Palace
to mourn the demise of the Queen
and peering to the heavens could view
two rainbows, a magical sight,
symbolising a new beginning.
It is truly a poignant image
certainly with religious connotations,
for some a sign from God
yet it's a wonderful picture anyway
adding to the occasion
and as the solemn people shed their tears
just like a ghost... the rainbow disappears.

Dear W.B., by David Dumouriez

16/9/2022

 
When you are old and grey and full of drugs,
And the doctors tell me you’ve not long to live,
I’ll dance around and shout “Hooray!”
And look to find a nice young piece of stuff.

The Sound & Scent of Rainfall, by Michael Leach

16/9/2022

 
She drops her album
as late winter warms to spring
here in Bendigo.
Her sweet vocals & gentle
guitar evoke petrichor.

Come to Me, by Cheah Yin Mee

9/9/2022

 
Come to me in the silence of the night:
Come, come into my waiting arms.
My warm body, soft and relaxed,
massaged by sleep,
my fingers reaching out for yours
touching softly,
our fingers curling together
I draw you to me.

Armchair Travelling in Jan. 2021, by Michael Leach

9/9/2022

 
That summer, I spent my holidays
armchair travelling on every chair in the house
whilst listening to travel
-themed tracks
on loop.
At one point, I found myself
wondering if it’s coincidental
that the most successful singles in Angus & Julia Stones’
back catalogue are tracks about travel:
‘Chateau’ & ‘Big Jet Plane’.
Whilst wondering,
I found myself raiding the printer
and proceeding to fold & fly paper aeroplanes
to the sounds of Angus & Julia Stone
performing a less successful
single: ‘Paper Aeroplane’.

A Number of Lies, by Mary Wallace

9/9/2022

 
I told a lie
Not my fault, it could have been 'til death do us part',
But your lie was ' in sickness and in health'
And you ran spilling lies behind you.

Honour and protect- there's two more
And faithful, lie number four.
That one's a doozy, I saw your texts.

Then there was financial support,
You left me with the medical bills and I found not a penny while sifting through your lies.

You were broke, you said; there's another.
You, with the fancy car, living the high life
Deserter, liar.

I only told one lie; actually I told another,
My fault this time
I photoshopped you with the bosses wife.

Summit, by Robert Hunt

9/9/2022

 
snow-clad peak close by
soaring clouds hover below
at last...contentment

The Parasol, by J. Iner Souster

9/9/2022

 
A cigarette between my lips
waiting for the traffic to clear
before I get back into the saddle again
and begin to look for another place to sleep
For though the sun was shining as fiercely as ever,
of distant waves and birds awake to music and rain
I felt cold and wet, breathing hard and trembling like a leaf
A downpour had come from within the parasol,
which now lay in a heap beside me,
The end had broken off
leaving only a little piece stuck in the earth.
Now unshaded is just the thing,

Belonging, by Rona Fitzgerald

9/9/2022

 
Malahide, Dublin.
Picture(Image: David Stanley)
Wind and waves greet us, lick our faces
kittiwakes, oystercatchers, zen like herons.
Our hotel is by the sea, near my old home.

I take up the rhythm, sea sounds were my lullaby,
my breathing attuned to the surge of waves -
the soft release across the shingle. Home.

My teenage years, walking to escape censure, exposure
miles of coast, clink and tinkle of masts from small boats.
Early boyfriends tested by the elements.

I ache for water, the song of the sea’s traced
into my soundscape tattooed on my heart.
Keening sea birds call me home.

Art and Crime, by Alex Blaine

9/9/2022

 
My poetry lives in paint cans
the city walls are my pages
I dance on the fine line
between art and crime . . .
Dysfunctional dyslexia
is the graffiti of my mind
but my soul has to write
with paint

Carol Service, by Guy Fletcher

9/9/2022

 
There is joy etched on the faces
of the congregation
in the splendid ancient church
but as they sing "O Holy Night"
he cannot hold back the tears
then senses her ghost beside him
staring with the most beautiful eyes.
This is his first carol service since
she was cruelly taken from his grasp
but there's a tragic beauty to the scene
as the choir renders this lovely hymn.
He slowly walks out into frosty air
knowing this Christmas will not be the same,
and as the stars shine...he softly calls her name.

Seven Speeding Snails, by Rashna Walton

2/9/2022

 
Seven slick and speeding snails go journeying to Stowe
Oozing on each slimy toe, with many a mile to go.
And whom should they meet from a small town in Chilé
But a carefree choreographer.
A vapouring prancer, a capering dancer of pirouettes and plié.

Said the snails,
We think it’s quite daunting these moves that you’re flaunting
As we’ve only one foot which is slippery
We prefer to get verbal and guttural and gurgle
And we put all our faith in wordsmithery.

Then the grindlebush windchime struck ten to three
And the snails set the table for afternoon tea.

If, by Liz O’Shea

2/9/2022

 
If I was seventeen and not seventy
I would dance all the way to Brum
I would spin on stilettos at your door
I would fly in on humming birds wings
Tear off your clothes the better to see you
Naked muscles rippling, six pack glistening
With the trickling sweat of your urgency.

If I was seventeen instead of seventy
I would dance naked in the street
And the neighbours would be glad
I would be a love Goddess looking for human lovers
I would choose you above all others
Because you would worship at my feet
If I was seventeen and not seventy.

A Fine September Evening, by Guy Fletcher

2/9/2022

 
It is a fine September evening
in the beer garden of the Pantmawr
with a breeze that whispers autumn
as the curtains of the sky close
and a full moon and stars appear
quite indifferent to our trivial woes.
The voices of the inebriated
become louder after every drink
as dogs reside comfortably
by their joyful owners' feet.
I feel at peace just for now
allowing thoughts to drift like the clouds
as the curtains of the September sky close
quite indifferent to our trivial woes.

    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

    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    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