Photo Challenge# 82, October 13, 2015 – Monster in My Garden

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This week Yves is asking us to go out into your own garden/city and find something bizarre/fantastical to photograph (if possible) and write about. It can be an animal, insect, person, building, food/beverage, festival etc.

Commotion

Chaos

Mayhem

Calls here and there

Confusion

Aliens?

Amongst the ferns I spied this monstrosity.

Red raw it seemed as if waiting.

Who would be fool enough to come close?

The brown ooze uninviting

The inflammation obvious

Would it pounce?

Was it waiting?

I wasn’t going to find out.

The spindly tentacles

Reached out to invite the gullible

They appeared to appeal

But their colour

Repulsive, we stepped back

Photographed it

Sought answers

Went to the nursery

‘No idea,’ said an expert gardener

‘But it looks like a fungus.’

Back home and there it was

A starfish fungus

As large as the palm of my hand

His sticky centre a death trap.

An hour later I went back

But he had begun to fade

Withering as the moments past.

Since then I have seen a few small ones

But this large fungus

With his flesh exposed

Remains my garden’s hidden

Occupant.

Except of course for the fernery fairies

Who stay well away

When a stinky sticky end is on the cards.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/10/13/photo-challenge-82-october-13-2015/

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Wordle #82 “October 12, 2015” – Lychee

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This week’s words: Katydid Placenta Melancholy Nocturnal Vacillate (to waver in mind or opinion; be indecisive or irresolute: to sway unsteadily; waver; totter; stagger.) Laotang (in English: old sames; written: 老同 in Mandarin is a type of relationship within Chinese culture, which was practiced in Hunan, that bonded two girls together for eternity as kindred sisters.) Written Twitch Ravine Lychee (a Chinese fruit, can also refer to the tree looks like so http://sociallizard.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/Lychee.jpg) Assist Anemic

It was late and the earth was settling for another day. All things nocturnal were about their nocturnal habits, the katydid’s doing what they did best ‘katydid, katydid, katydid’ for as long as the thought would drive a deaf man crazy.

He had a sense melancholy on this night. The hot summer was taking its toll on him and every one around him.

He had in his lap a bowl of fresh lychees. These were his favourite fruit and cold and on a hot evening they were the best at soothing his hot brow. Madame Laotang his local Chinese massage and green grocer had received a shipment in from the mainland and was rationing them out to her regular customers.

They were known to assist anyone feeling and or looking anaemic and in his current melancholy he knew they would be just the thing to lift him from his lethargy.

His lethargy had to do with a paper he had written the week before. It had taken a toll of him as evidenced by his vacillating over the topic in the previous weeks.

His pet subject was botany and he so desperately wanted to write the definitive discourse on the placenta of the flowering daisy but he knew that Barney Langford was planning the same discourse and so it became a race against the clock to get his down and submitted before Barney had, plucked his, so to speak.

He had worked day and night, night and day and had by the end developed a recognisable twitch in his neck. Such was it that he began to resemble a marmoset monkey constantly looking about as if predators were about to pounce.

So tonight as he munched his way through the lychees, savouring every morsel his girlfriend Ravine came through the door. She was a tall girl, who often gave the impression of being deep and dangerous, but was in fact a sight to behold once you got to know her and explored her more thoroughly.

So the two sat together, lychee in hand, the katydids katydiding to their hearts content, the many nocturnal creatures exercising their vocal chords and thought to themselves how lucky they were to be alive and not anaemic like so many unfortunates denied the medicinal qualities of the humble lychee.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/10/12/wordle-82-october-12-2015/

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Writing Prompt #128 “Collage 8″ – The Lush

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I thought I loved you

Thought the sun shone out your bum

But underneath it all

You were nothing but a lush.

It was the bottles I found

Stashed behind the bedhead

That gave me reason

To question your sobriety.

You lulled me with promises of starlight nights

Of exotic ports and places

Where dreams would be fulfilled

Every desire met and realised.

And me in rose coloured glasses

Blind to the reality around me

Plunged hopelessly, completely in love

With what turned out to be a surface apparition.

Your drunken advances, simplicity of character

When I searched for your soul

Found nothing but beige, featureless prattle

That sounded a lot meaning nothing.

Finally your superficiality

Born out in trinkets and cheap bling

To impress me of your worldliness

Was as artificial as your very soul.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/10/11/writing-prompt-128-collage-8%E2%80%B3/

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Music Prompt #12: “Clumsy” performed by Our Lady Peace – Clumsy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xp2P6JKc1QE

Oops, bump

Crash graze,

Slip slide

Fall down.

Sorry!

I pick you up once again

It’s becoming a part of our every day

You’ve even begun to curse under your breath

The frustration apparent

As you allow me to lift you back onto the lounge.

You’ve begun those statements

The ones I never wanted to hear

‘I’m useless’

‘Put me away’

‘Put me down’

‘We are all clumsy babe,’ I say

‘You’re just a bit more than most.’

Making light doesn’t cut it when ever step

Is prefaced by a terror of being your last.

You grimace at me, you know I am here

But I see the dark clouds hovering ever closer

As the falling increases and the standing diminishes.

We know it’s a matter of time

Every diagnosis tells us that

But we hang on to what we have

Every minute with you a blessing.

We find humour in what we do

At times our clumsiness makes us both laugh.

Slippin’ and slidin’ its what we do

Rockin’ and rollin’ is who we are

Droppin’ and stoppin’ is NOT who we are

Tomorrow is a long way off

When each second of the now

Is precious beyond words.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/10/09/music-prompt-12-clumsy-performed-by-our-lady-peace/

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SoCS Oct 10/15 – ‘ing

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The first word of your post must end in the letters “ing.” Extra points if the final word of the post does too.

Singing was something I always enjoyed though I could never say I was good at it.

I sang in the school choir, I did a few solos; I sang a duet or two as well.

When I began teaching I worked in a school in the bush where we didn’t have a music teacher and so music was either not taught or someone was given a music class and a bunch of old vinyl records to play.

I decided I would put on a musical and so I wrote a short play and in order to hasten the teaching of the songs I ‘borrowed’ melodies from radio songs that were popular at the time. My theory was that was an easy way to teach the songs thinking they already knew the melodies.

It went well and so I got a bit adventurous and wrote some original songs for the next one and so took on the teaching of song.

Kids love to sing. The shows were a lot of fun and when I moved to a bigger school with a music teacher we went from strength to strength with longer shows and most importantly an orchestra as opposed to a few friends who could play a few instruments.

My biggest moment came with the production of a show that took me a year to write and develop but it was a great success in the school I worked in at that time. Kids responded well to the story, the actors worked hard and the band played with great expertise.

Singing was enjoyable but always a great challenge to kids who didn’t feel confident. Our leading lady was a wonderful actress but she lacked confidence in her singing so we fudged her singing as best we could. She had one main song in the play and we attached our best singers to her, as back up singers, so when she was singing so were they.

We got away with it and she was happy, we were happy and the show a great success.

Singing always makes us happy campers. We all are concert standard when we are in the shower or home alone and belting out a favourite track that is playing.

I think that no matter what age you are there is always and will always be magic in exercising your vocal chords in some good old fashioned singing.

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2015/10/09/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-1015/

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Tale Weaver 34: a painting in search of a story – With a Bat and Ball

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Brueghel children’s games hd

Image: Children’s Games; Artist: Pieter Brueghel the Elder; Source: wikiart.org

The opportunity for game was limited in our village.

What with the day to day efforts to survive, to provide the labour needed in the fields and the help needed at harvest time our days so often left us exhausted and longing for rest.

Our days revolved around the daily tasks of making ends meet but on the one day of the year when all work was suspended there was a sense of joy and relaxation within the village and we made sure it was a memorable day in every way.

Children could be children and the games they loved came out; the requirements long stuffed into the corners of rooms were dusted off and put to their very use.

For us boys it meant the bats and ball would come out and we would head to the village green to play out loved game of bat and ball.

Sides would be picked and the games played in fierce competition. There was never any prize but rather the pride of being on the winning side, of contributing to the outcome, of doing your bit to the best of your ability.

The games reacquainted us with neighbours and villagers we had no time to engage with during our busy days.

It was an opportunity for us growing boys to show how in the period since out last encounter we had grown bigger and stronger. Every boy, me included, wanted to show off the added skills we thought we possessed.

We wanted to hit the ball further, throw it further and catch it with skill not shown before.

Every year the Pascoe boys banded together and selected the team they thought would bring them victory once again.

We were known as the Kinner boys and I was always third pick behind George Arthur and Alf Parker the two strongest boys on our side.

The game was played over a two-hour period and the Pascoe’s always put up a real fight. Two catches put your side back in the field so we always had our best catchers in the mid field as the ball a heavy cylinder of leather and pebbles took a lot of hitting to reach the forest edge and very few ever hit it that far.

Hits were counted, pitches were countered. The team with the most hits and least number of outs was the winner.

Good pitchers were invaluable and that’s where I stood out as I could pitch over arm with a lot of accuracy and made it hard for the Pascoe’s to clobber me.

As with every game in every year the time flew and whilst we did battle a crowd gathered along the edge of the field to watch as the game ebbed and flowed, neither side dominating the other.

As with so many games played over the years ours came down to the final bat. We had a timekeeper who would call out the minutes remaining. The intensity of the match increased the closer we got to a call of time.

By the last five minutes the Pascoe’s were sixteen hits and nine outs against our fifteen hits eight outs.

It was our turn to bat and George Arthur was the man in. He hit the first ball pitched at him deep into the right field only to be caught. We were now a hit behind but equal with the Pascoe’s on outs.

I was next to bat. I hit the pitch deep to left field and it hit the ground, we had matched the Pascoe’s in hits. It was all even and Alf Parker was next. Alf had had a poor day being caught out every time he struck the ball. But now all hope of victory rested with him.

The first pitch he swung and missed. Our hearts sank; we were on the edge of our seat.

The next pitch he connected and the ball flew straight up in the air. Our hearts further sank as the catcher positioned himself under the ball to take what was going to be an easy catch.

But for whatever reason, he fumbled the ball and it hit the ground just as the timekeeper called time.

We had won by an extra hit. We were excited congratulating each other and all saying what a great game it was.

One of the conventions of our games was that at the end all would shake hands and no grudges would be held after all many of us had to go back to work the next day and there was no value in holding anything against anyone you may need to rely on the next day.

But there were bragging rights and we made sure we exercised those for the next week.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/10/08/tale-weaver-34-a-painting-in-search-of-a-story/

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FFfAW-Week of 10-06-2015 – First Night Out

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My first night on the big stage was at the Freckle Theatre. My manager convinced me that my act was worthy of the big stage, big lights, big audience.

Well two out of three isn’t so bad I guess. I got the stage and the lights at least.

My manager Errol was a man born full of ideas but little common sense.

My first night out as he referred to it was a disaster.

Though my mum said I had promise.

But I had been taught that if one person showed up and had paid for a ticket it was beholding of me to give them a show.

But playing to six paying folk was a disappointment in a theatre where six hundred would fit comfortably.

Nevertheless on I went, laboured through my routine to sporadic laughter and a final applause that was begrudgingly given.

Maybe mum’s suggestion of a life working in the bank might not be so bad after all.

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2015/10/06/fffaw-week-of-10-06-2015/

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Photo Challenge# 81, October 6, 2015 – Silence

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Image: Mala Lesbia

The phone sits silent

As if it cares little how we feel.

He was supposed to be here

Within the hour,

Then two,

Now three.

No news tonight is not good news.

He was always reliable

Never late for anything

The most punctual and anal

About being on time.

He departed headed towards home

Sent a text at the halfway mark

Said all was going well.

Then nothing.

His phone is not responding

We are worried

Anxiety is building.

We are too concerned to say anything.

Earlier there were light-hearted jibes

The old jokes about his adherence to time

That he was forever texting.

The silence is killing us

Mum is looking more and more frantic

Dad sits staring ahead

The news reports a major accident on the freeway

The one he is on.

His girlfriend has arrived

She cries on mum’s shoulder

Wants to know, wants to know now!

Four hours and nothing.

I have this sense of dread

The phone will ring

It wont be what we want to hear

What do we do then?

Five hours my mobile rings

It’s him

No coverage, he was first at the scene

He’s been helping

He sounds exhausted

He sounds like a voice from heaven.

All around there are looks of relief.

His girlfriend cries more

Now with relief.

Dad finally breaks his stoic stand,

Wipes his eyes

Says anyone for a beer?

Mum sits with the girlfriend

And me?

I’m grateful

His voice shattered the silence.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/10/06/photo-challenge-81-october-6-2015/

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Kreative Kue 45 – Kreates Bootmaker and Apothecary.

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The group was super excited as they neared the one place that they had focused on reaching. It had taken them six weeks and across four continents before they stood in the ancient city.

They knew in one of the many dark and narrow streets they would find the place they sought.

And there it was. In all its glory. Just as they had been promised.

Keith Kreates Bootmaker and Apothecary.

The legendary shop stood as it had always stood. Minding its own business in a neighbourhood where minding your own business was a good sign you enjoyed living.

The family Kreates had run the business for centuries the secrets of boot making and apothecary being passed on from one son to the next.

Their boots it was claimed had magical qualities and that was a given when you considered the excellent workmanship. Every stitch of the leather oozed class and quality.

It was claimed their boots could prevent bunions and split heels. Give the weary traveller extra hours of traipsing and cushion ones feet against the wear and tear of walking upon cobble stones.

Their apothecary business was also unique. They had a range of potions and lotions, to inhale, to inject, to ingest or simply have applied with a loved ones caring hand.

Travellers especially sought their foot balm a soothing cream that when applied to your aching feet gave your feet the sensation of being reborn into a glamorous and pain free world. People were known to drift off into the luxury of the balm for hours on end.

The group was so excited to be standing outside the shop and were busy studying the slips of paper in their pockets.

Despite his fame Kreates was a rather impatient man and his reputation was such that he didn’t like to wait for you to decide on any product but rather that you knew your shoe size upon entering or knew exactly which product from his apothecary section you were going to purchase.

The group organised themselves and entered a shop that took their breath away.

Shoes lined the shelves on one side and on the other the lotions and potions held pride of place.

Mr Kreates took their orders and before long they were the proud owners of their respective purchases.

They left the store and stood outside, their purchases in special Keith Kreates carry bags. Standing in front of the store and taking the necessary photos and selfies they felt the entire trip was well worth the effort to be right where they were at that very moment.

Written for: http://channing.info/wp/2015/10/05/kreative-kue-45/

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Haibun Monday 2

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I have chosen this quote from Kahlil Gibran as the basis for my haibun:

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.

We sit in the café a little nervous on our first face to face.

It’s taken a long time to get this far. I was stuck in the Internet world of screen, words and images and she was wanting to contact.

It took a summer to get me organised to be here at this time.

Outside the autumn winds whip the leaves on the sidewalks into swirls and throw them into the path of hurrying commuters.

It had taken a four-hour journey to get here, I hate travel, I dislike being out of my comfort zone but her sweet invitation was to great to ignore.

So here I sit, facing the most beautiful woman in the world, wondering what she sees in an ordinary man such as me.

nervous traveller

autumn chills with sweetest friend

relax in her eyes

Written for: http://dversepoets.com/2015/10/05/haibun-monday-2/

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