Tag Archives: Gedichte

Orbiting the Moon

After reading Linda’s (Granonine) story on Friday-Fictioneers I recalled a piece of poetry I wrote sometime ago, for a specific reason.

Let me know if you enjoyed reading it or otherwise.

Photo from Pixabay.com

Orbiting the Moon.   (James McEwan)

Mother stood gazing out of the window
As I walked along the gravel garden path.
She looked through me as if I was hollow.
But I smiled and waved. I saw her laugh.

We sat on the veranda having tea with scones.
She asked where I had been all these years,
Were you lost in space searching for stones?
I can’t remember, she said and wiped her tears.

I passed her the album, pictures of our family. 
My children as babies then going on to school.
Who are these people? I can’t see them clearly,
Ah yes, she said, your father. The stubborn fool.

We walked to the park and sat by the lake.
She told me she was proud of her beloved son,
The first Scots astronaut who promised to take
Her sightseeing to the stars and orbit the moon.

Is it time to go? she said and held my hand.
I pulled up the blanket to fend off the chill.
How long will it take and where shall we land?
She rested on my shoulder and slipped away,
So peacefully, and silent.
Like the sunset sinking behind the hill. 

Dream with the Stars

Thank you Rochelle for keeping the Friday Fictioneers community inspired to write our set of flash fiction. The variety of stories presented (click HERE) indicates the wide imagination that prevails among us.

This week’s photo-prompt of a stone-walled barn by Lisa Fox, indicates a certain pride by the builder.
I can imagine the rustic lifestyle and a storage barn for animals or just chopped wood.

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

Dreams with the Stars

At first it was a small dirty cowshed.
At night, we would look through the holes in the roof to find Betelgeuse.
My twin sister, Annabelle, dreamed she would be rich and live in a chateau.

This made father laugh. When he rebuilt the barn, he declared it the castle of Queen Annabelle.
Hold on to your dreams, they will come true, he declared to us.

We held hands beside the barn and remembered father’s words.
‘His spirit is the inspiration of my dreams,’ said Annabelle. Her diamond rings glittered like Orion’s belt, but this barn was still her castle.

Hide and Seek

Thank you Rochelle for your choice for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. It is a playful looking picture from Dale and shows the mischievous nature of kittens.

More stories can be read by clicking on the link HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Hide and Seek

Susan fell off her tricycle and scraped her knees. She said it was because she had no friends, so Grandma found her a kitten.

Kitty followed Susan everywhere, and they played hide-and-seek. Kitty couldn’t count to ten. She always waited until Susan crawled behind some furniture, then dashed to surprise her.

Kitty hid in the darkest places and little Susan didn’t like that.

The bookcase was musty, but she followed Kitty in and became trapped among the pages of an encyclopaedia. Kitty kept watch while Susan journeyed through a magical adventure and made lots of friends.

No one found Susan.

Crocodile Love

This week’s picture by Penny appears so peaceful and allows the mind to wander in those warm summer afternoons.

Yet, as I discovered in Roaring Creek Belize, swimming in the water attracts all sorts of creatures, like little fish that nibble and bite!

More from Friday Fictioneers here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Penny Gadd

Crocodile Love

‘There’s one. Oh, it’s gone.’
The crocodile dived, creating a cloud of silt.

Caroline detested John’s profession of photography.
He stopped her from going to the golf course with Jenny. Lovely, soft Jenny.
You’re my wife, John had demanded. Together, we are going croc hunting.
Yes, their problem; together was everything he ordered.

From the boat, she trailed her hand in the water and thought of Jenny.
Sweet, warm-hearted Jenny. Oh, the bliss, when she massaged her legs and kissed–.

‘Look, another one.’ He leaned over the side, snapping away.

‘Careful! You’ll fall in.’ She grinned, rocking the boat.

The Night Game by Jennie Boyes

The Night Game by Jennie Boyes.

This morning, I enjoyed reading this story, by Jennie Boyes.

The POV is that of a child, Fridel, who try’s to make sense of the events taking place in her village.

Fridel’s mother is suffering from depression from the loss of her son Bert and blames The Mare and other mystical spirits.

Fridel starts to suspect that witches are to blame and in her own way (you decide) takes action to rid the village of them and the Mare.

The narrative gripped me from the beginning and drew me into the naive thoughts of Fridel. It was clear to me, the reader, what was going on. However, the adults were unaware how their explanations of spirits and evil witches influenced Fridel.

You can read the story here: The Night Game

Dolphins are Guardian Angels

A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

You can read the stories from other contributors, here.

Dolphins are Guardian Angels

I admired the parrot fish shoal dashing past, then wham! The impact dislodged my facemask; my flippers were clamped in the teeth of a shark. I struggled my feet free, readjusted my mask and mouthpiece, and swam to a coral buttress. I watched John climb into the boat ten metres above.
The excited bull shark circled and raced towards me. I was trapped.
I heard a screech of whistles and clicks, and a dolphin struck the shark’s underbelly. The pod harassed and chased the menace away.
My saviours escorted me to the surface, and to the safety of the boat.

Conquer Your Fears

Friday Fictioneers – rochellewisoff.com

Read more flash-fiction from Friday Fictioneers here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

Conquer Your Fears

John’s birthday surprise left her speechless. In shock, Lynda climbed into the balloon’s basket; her shoes caught on the step. Her mind was screaming for excuses. Why did he have to sell his motorbike?
Lynda screwed her eyes closed and gripped the rail as if fused to the metal. Sweat dripped over her brow, and champagne bubbles churned in her stomach.
The engines’ roar and the swaying movement made her legs tremble.
‘Look,’ shouted John.
She peeked and saw her Mum waving. She relaxed and thought, this is okay. The balloon juddered; she vomited her champagne and caviar over John.

Fear in the Woods

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle-Wisoff-Fields

For other stories CLICK HERE

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Fear in the Woods

‘Okay, you must stay together. Promise,’ said Maggie. ‘The pie’s in the oven.’
As a child, she loved playing in the woods, but Massie and Albert were little, at least they had Buster.
When the apple-pie was ready, she went to call for them.
‘Albert, Massie, come on in,’ she called walking into the woods. ‘Buster.’
She saw the dumped fridge and gave it a kick. Typical!
Massie shouted, ‘Hi Mum.’
Buster began barking on top of the fridge.
‘Where’s Albert?’ She pushed the dog aside and opened the door. ‘Albert!’
Massie’s lip trembled. ‘He stayed home on his computer.’

What Lasts Forever?

My apologies I missed last week – I seemed to have run out of ink.

This week’s Friday Fictioneers from Rochelle

Read more contributions with this link.

What Lasts Forever?

It was a dare; we ran naked along the beach.
Months later, the best man embarrassed us. Who told him?
You decorated and choose pictures for our home.
One day you said, “Nothing lasts forever.”
You left and disappeared.
I never liked your taste in art, and I was pleased to dispose of our differences.
But you were wrong.
When I close my eyes, I am with you under the moonlight; swimming.
I dream of us bobbing in the warm water; floating with promises for eternity.
Without your spirit, I flounder in this lonely depth of my dark despairing sea.

When I am Alone, I am Afraid

Post for Friday Fictioneers – go to the other stories using this link:

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

WHEN I AM ALONE, I AM AFRAID.

I can’t remember when I first noticed the little bird, a wheatear. When the telephone rang it appeared at the window and when I hung up the handset, I would drop some seeds or crumbs outside.
A bond developed between us and mutual expectation. The bird became my companion, and I was its source of titbits. We were creatures of habit, and the little bird became a great comfort to me in my moments of deep anxiety.
The bird will migrate soon, what will I do?
I wished the calls would stop, or at least whoever it was, would speak.