Green Fingers

Happy Birthday Sally

Green Fingers.  100 Word Wednesday.

I ordered a vegetarian pizza with personality and was impressed with its photo-fit likeness of Sally. I fell over laughing. She stormed off taking the jeep. I begged her to return, but she cleared out my account and left to live up north with Hashish Bob. I counted myself lucky, it was a stolen jeep, and scammed account, but still I miss her, those pearly white dentures, large doe like eyes and her envious warm nature. Occasionally, I would find curly green fibres in my bed and I’d cry. Without her magical green fingers my life has gone to waste.

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Marie – Short Story

Photo – Kirkandmimi – pixabay.com

Marie’s father has vowed to kill Carl if he ever returns to Italy, but after twenty years will his love for Marie prevail.

Read the short story – Marie

 

On the Road to Paradise

Three Line Tales, Week 80

Photo by Annie Theby – Unsplash

I dream of freedom and traveling on the road.
In the morning I’d be ecstatic to see our new van waiting.
Please don’t wake me, I am living in paradise.

A Rat in every Port

A Rat in every Port – Three Line Tales

 

Photo – Timothy Meinberg  via Unsplash.

‘The Jellicle’ sails on the morning high tide,
Hurry Captain Growtiger, get on board,
and quick before Miss Kitty wakes.

Is She my Type?

Blind Date.

Street Art in Glasgow, Scotland

They said she’s nice, so don’t be late
You’ll recognise her beautiful smile
And she’ll be wearing the latest Prada style
My nervous excitement, on a blind date

I saw her, gorgeous, laughing at the bar
Dressed in fashionable hugging stripes
Enchanting, attracting extroverted types
Like a prowling stag, ready armed for war

There is something about the fading light
That brings out an instinct in my mind
A sort of sublime emotional mating kind
That drives survival, but perhaps not tonight.

 

 

A Cabin in The Woods

A Cabin in the Woods. 100 Words Week 7

 

 

Olivier Guillard

Adam and Eve ran away from disapproval and family shame
Where people pointed since their unmarried love was a sin
They disappeared into the woods to start their life again
Where they built a cabin and a home for future children.

They built it far away from the well-trodden paths
By a lake with bulrush reeds and darting dragon flies
that hovered in the air with warm dog-rose scented wafts
drifting in the idyllic afternoons under the cloudless skies

Where behind the purple rosebay ran the bubbling brooks
They washed and bathed naked in the clear shallow pools
Guarded and watched over by a parliament of silent rooks
As they dried themselves slowly with white woollen towels

Alas with naivety of nature’s fruits, a mistaken death cap
was added for nourishment into a warm mushroom soup
As they peacefully slept, in their veins ran the poisonous sap
And in drifting dreams their souls followed a heavenly route

After fifty years, there were no records of the cabin in the woods
Or of the skeleton lovers huddled beneath a blanket of dust
The mystery became a myth full of folk songs with solemn moods
of young couples entranced by forbidden love and mistaken trust.

Dream Lover

Dream Lover – Three Line Tales

Roman Kraft via Unsplash

My dreams of you are beautiful, and in mornings I wake shivering in cold fear.

I know you are watching me and today you’ve made your feelings very clear.

Choking and claustrophobic in this café, as my dream lover – a stranger – is near.

Life’s Neglected Past

Three Line Tales. Life’s Neglected Past.

Photo by Sean Tan via Unsplash

Our sunshine filled childhood days, we ran and splashed, swimming in the lake.
Those dream filled teenage years promising, as we sat dangling our wet feet.
Years gone, but have we become so dull and grey? Let’s leap naked into the deep.

Hollywood Star – Villanelle

 

Dance Lessons Boston

Hollywood Star.

When we met in the September’s heat one lonely night
They were playing soft Jazz in the Bertolt Brecht bar
Where she was sipping mojitos in the shadows of a flickering light.

I noticed her sulky red lips and her dress all glittering white
She asked me to drive her somewhere, anywhere not far
When we met in the September’s heat one lonely night.

The Jazz switched to latin and couples were holding tight
I said let’s Salsa and away from drinking at the bar
Where she was sipping mojitos in the shadows of a flickering light.

She crossed her legs, flashing her bare thighs for my sight
What happened here, she whispered and caressed my facial scar
When we met in the September’s heat one lonely night.

I said, it’s a sad reminder over a woman I lost in a fight
We could go to a room, she smiled and I lit up my cigar
Where she was sipping mojitos in the shadows of a flickering light.

She asked me for money, to help pay for her flight
As she told me of her dreams of being a hollywood star
When we met in the September’s heat one lonely night
Where she was sipping mojitos in the shadows of a flickering light.

Poetry – I am Clyde.

In the following piece I have concentrated on alliteration with a cadence and rhythm that mimics the flowing waters of the river Clyde. For the poetic technocrats you will notice I have sacrificed both metre or any form of iambic stress patterns and for that I apologise. Oh, for free verse!

I have adopted a lamenting tone of a lovesick character, but then you the reader may decide your own interpretation of the theme.

Sandy River Bank on the Clyde. Clyde walkway Scotland.

I am Clyde

I need you.

I confer with you my Clyde

Disillusion in my distemper

I lay lazy by your side

Pleasures past I still remember.

 

I sense you.

Fragrance clear as your falsetto

Odour sweet from an orchid flower

Timeless temptress I am besotted

Disinterred my soul you devour.

 

I hear you

Musical tunes a mysterious song

I relish the resonance and harmony

Oratorio orchesis flowing along

Whimsical waters dance the melody.

 

I drink you.

I slip and slide into your mist

I grip and grasp for air

Racing pulse and pounding fist.

Screaming alive in my aphonia

Bonnington Linn – River Clyde – Scotland

I feel you.

Driven deep over worn cliffs

Enchanted silence warm embrace

Drowning in orgasmic bliss

Spiritual essence of milky lace

 

I was.

Flotsam flirting amongst the rocks

Thrown and torn my human waste

Morticians work the mourners’ corpse

To bury somewhere, in a pointless place.

 

I am you.

Sagacious spirits we are entwined

Now nature’s eternal souls

So I am you,

I am Clyde.

—————————————————–

Aphonia:    Loss of voice from hysteria.

Omniety:    The condition of being all.

Oratorio:    A story set to music, with soloists, chorus and full orchestra.

Orchesis:   Art of dancing or rhythmical movement.

Sagacious:  Keen in perception or thought. Wise.