Lighthouse in a Bottle – Photo Prompt #41 – December 30, 2014 – Jagged Memories.

Posted on December 30, 2014 by Michael

laurie-smith_41

Image: Byron Bay Lighthouse Laurie Smith

Jagged memories are what I have

My life a series of non-events.

Holidays spent on sublime coastlines

Beaches with beckoning vistas

Seductive moments when eyes met eyes

The possibility of the impossible.

When far from home

Anything seemed plausible.

The girl from the country

Who sat herself down beside me

Played coyly in the sand at my feet

Who hung on my words

Later we wrote letters back and forth

And then nothing.

Each holiday bought its own adventure

My heart won by the girl who stripped naked

Whose breasts called to me

And foolishly I answered

To be rebuffed, ridiculed,

Immaturity they said is such a curse.

Recollections fade over time

The fishing trips, the escape with mates

One Mile Beach in a caravan

Mates together, idle days

Two girls from the city

Like us seeking playtime

But out of my depth

My fumbling speech and action going nowhere.

To the girl who one night lay beside me

We engaged in conversation

Later to find she was disappointed

Nothing happened.

I repeated that many times I fear

On holidays now washed clean with time.

Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/12/30/lighthouse-in-a-bottle-photo-prompt-41-december-30-2014/

Posted in MLM, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 19 Comments

Scribe’s Cave Picture Prompt #53 – Clomper

Posted on December 29, 2014 by Michael

83858360

Image: c.1925 boy rolling in invalid cart

I remember waking up and realising my legs were swathed in bandages. I had been told before the operation to expect my legs to be wrapped up as they were.

I was born with clubfeet and the operation was designed to straighten me out as my mother had said to me before the lights went out and I awoke to a new me.

Having clubfeet meant my mobility was severely limited. I walked in an ungainly way.

At school kids called me Clomper. I wondered as I looked down on my now straightened feet if that name might disappear. I hoped it might, as it was the source of so much ridicule and embarrassment.

Whatever was next in store for me had to be an improvement on my immediate past. I crossed my fingers as I saw the doctor come into the room.

Written for: http://caveofscribes.starvingactivist.com/2014/12/22/scribes-cave-picture-prompt-53/

Posted in memory | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Mondays Finish the Story – December 29th, 2014

Posted on December 29, 2014 by Michael

2014-12-29-bw-beacham

Finish the story begins with: “The house of Don Francisco sat in a remote part of the desert.”

It was a place that when you saw it you knew where his allegiances lay. The fortifications stood out as a long time reminder of his disputes with neighbours, the government and anyone else he didn’t see eye to eye with.

Underneath the gruff exterior there did lay a kind and gentle man, stubborn when pushed but a man of principles and at time breathtaking benevolence.

Many a lost desert traveller had found sanctuary at his home.

Now some twenty years after his passing I looked at the rundown state of this once majestic home and wondered what Dom Francisco might say of its present state. Where once music and joy had filled the air, now the hot biting wind and creeping vegetation were the only evidence of life.

 

Written for: http://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2014/12/29/mondays-finish-the-story-december-29th-2014/

Posted in memory | Tagged , , , , | 19 Comments

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#161 – Christmas Night

Posted on December 29, 2014 by Michael

100wcgu-7

This week’s task is: remember a good time, experience, meeting or event and share it with us in 100 words.

Christmas night arrived at my place along with my six children and their families.

What was remarkable about this was that for the first time in many years all my children were together at Christmas. When they live in different parts of the country it is not easy to get them together as we did.

With grandchildren ranging from 3 months to 12 years it was a treat to have all 8 of them at my house.

My house was tested with 24 people eating, drinking and making merry. They have suggested I build an extension for next year.

Written for: http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2014/12/29/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week161/

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

Wordle # 41 – December 29, 2014 – The Fizz

Posted on December 29, 2014 by Michael

wordle-41-dec-29

This weeks words: Conceit Android Illeist (A person who refers to themselves in the 3rdperson) Fizzle Zinc Mischief Brick Strangle Intersection Ghetto Ridicule Draftsack (a bag of garbage, figuratively a big belly)

You could never say that the man we called The Fizz was in any way shape or form a conceited man. Robert Fizzle lived two doors down from me on Morpeth Road. The Fizz was to put it mildly a gentle man. Though you could be forgiven thinking he was more than he really was should you happen to eavesdrop at the monthly Morpeth Road Book Club meeting as you’d hear The Fizz waxing lyrical about the poetic conceits of Johns Donne and Keats.

All this of course belied the fact that The Fizz was a large man. His draftsack appearance he used to his advantage for as a part time weekend axe murderer you could be mistaken should you be ear marked as a victim for thinking he was a harmless old man making his way in the world free from whatever mischief might come his way.

In fact The Fizz took his job very seriously, and should you know about him and be so bold as to ridicule him, LOCK YOUR DOORS!!!

I liked the fact that whenever you drew him into conversation the illeist nature of him came out. For example:

‘How are you today Robert?’

‘The Fizz is doing well thank you.’

‘Have you been busy?’

The Fizz is always busy.’

‘Had any jobs lately?’

‘The Fizz had one this morning, all done and dusted, he did a thorough job.’

The Fizz’ house was a small brick bungalow built well back off the street. In the front yard and hiding much of the house grew a variety of vines that threatened to strangle you should you linger too long under them as you made your way into his yard. The Fizz wasn’t much into home maintenance preferring the more ghetto type appearance of his house for he argued that the look kept the hawkers out.

So whilst he wasn’t much into care of his place he was into technology. He owned six android phones and devices, why I have no idea but when he wasn’t out on a job, and lets face it a part time weekend axe murderer does have a fair bit of down time, he would be playing with his technological toys, engrossed in whatever new game he had discovered.

I did take him out once, it was a weekend when he had no jobs on and I suggested we go to the beach. I picked him up at his front door, well sort of an estimate of where his door might be and he emerged from his house his face covered in zinc cream his way of guarding himself from sunburn and as he said: “The Fizz has a fear of skin cancer and likes his face the way it is.”

As we approached the beach we came upon a busy intersection and with traffic heavy and for reasons best known only to the Fizz he took it upon himself to whip out his latest android device and begin filming the traffic providing a running commentary with his recording. It was all fairly innocent until he got out of the car and stood on the median strip, camera held up filming the comings and goings of the traffic.

The sight of this man swathed in zinc cream, his draftsack gut protruding from his shirt standing in the middle of the intersection brought about honks from passing cars and ultimately a pile up of cars as drivers attentions were diverted from the road.

The Fizz well pleased with the mischief he had caused smiled at me as he climbed back into my car:

‘The Fizz has done good. They ridicule the Fizz at their peril,’ he said eyeing off what I perceived was a potential victim.

Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/12/29/wordle-41-december-29-2014/

Posted in MLM | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

Summer Camp – Writing Prompt # 87 December 28, 2014

Posted on December 28, 2014 by Michael

ocean-wave-abstract-beth-maddox

The camp director sat back

High above the camping ground

Rubbed his hands with glee

As he viewed the list

With every child’s name.

All that sugar and spice

And all things nice

Mixed together with the

Sticks and snails

And puppy dogs tails

What a time he would have

He grinned to himself

If only they knew what was to come.

He watched buses arrive

Spew out the willing

Who milled around

Full of excitement and expectation.

Summer camp would never be the same

He would make sure of that.

In a secret place, away from the camp

A large pot steamed

With patience towards boiling.

The bubbling sang it’s own song

In tunes of spells and concoctions

Passed down over time

From director to director.

Each held its own form of magic

From which there was never any return.

At the end of the six week camp

Parents came to collect their charges

Found them tired

Found them heartless

Found them bereft of most things human.

But being parents and doting ones

They were happy to have their child back home

Happy to see the camp a success

Their sons and daughters compliant and quiet

They failed to notice nor really cared

When their children never slept,

Never ate the same.

The camp director licked his lips

Settled back in his luxurious chair

Reflected a moment on the camps success

Sipped once more the nectar he loved

Cast an eye over his spoils

There’s enough he thought

Till the next summer camp.

Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/12/28/summer-camp-writing-prompt-87-december-28-2014/

Posted in MLM, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | 19 Comments

SoCS December 27/14 – Consume

Posted on December 26, 2014 by Michael

socs-badge

This week’s word is “consume”

A shadow stands over me.

I open one eye and then the other struggles to lift itself.

Above me stands a figure I have come to know all too well.

‘It’s you,’ I say.

‘Yes,’ he says.

‘It’s about yesterday isn’t it?’

‘Yes afraid so.’

‘I ate too much?’

‘Yes.’

‘Drank too much?’

‘Yes.’

‘Partied too hard?’

‘Yes.’

‘I feel crap.’

‘Yes.’

Its an annual ritual at my place the ghost of Christmas Repentance turns up and we have this little conversation while at the same time I am attempting to deny all responsibility.

‘You did consume a little more than you should.’ he says.

‘My brain, my stomach and every bone and muscle of my body agree.’ I say.

‘We go through this every year. You are a slow learner aren’t you?’

‘But it’s Christmas.’

‘You do the same at New Year and on your birthday.’

‘But only you come round to point the finger at my excesses.’

‘My job,’ he says. ‘They’d have my guts for garters if I didn’t come round and remind you on our excessive consuming habits.’

‘Well you’ve done your job, bugger off and leave me to my misery.’

‘Gladly.’ he says.

Then he’s gone and I’m left with a headache big enough to keep my head in the pillow for the next five hours while around me children party and play with their Christmas gifts creating just enough mess to engage my already addled brain with the prospect of cleaning a house trashed as their Christmas gift to me.

Next year I shall consume less, be responsible, show some restraint, maturity but who am I kidding says the demon at the back of my mind still wearing his Christmas party hat and planning next year’s festivities.

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2014/12/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-december-2714/

Posted in SOC | Tagged , , , , | 17 Comments

Fairytale Prompt #40 – The Princess

Posted on December 26, 2014 by Michael

Soup kitchen for poor jews at Spitalfields, London

The Princess looked down upon the town from her room high up in the castle. She could see that there was activity in the town square. It was that time of year again when the festive nature of the townspeople came to the fore.

Christmas was a special time of year. Within the castle the main forecourt would be decked out in the most extravagant of ways, decorations, lights, pageants and on Christmas Eve the townspeople would gather at the main gates to present to their King and Queen their gifts of gratitude.

It was the same each year and the Princess often wondered what happened to the mountain of gifts she saw piled on the floor below the royal thrones. Not that it was of concern to her as she was well aware of having everything she needed and more.

Royal protocol meant she was prevented from entering the town unless escorted by the Palace security, which meant her arrival would always be telegraphed and people would stop whatever they were doing to pay her the respect they did to the Royal family.

In her childhood she had discovered a side door to the castle that led into a street in the town. Her first time through the door had led to her being ridiculed by an urchin who poked fun at her clothes and called her strange names.

But now she was much older and decided to go and see for herself what lay beyond the castle walls and what happened in the town.

She found her oldest jeans and t-shirt and donning a baseball cap she set off. Being a public figure and instantly recognised in her royal garb she was pleased with herself when the first person she came upon paid her no attention.

She enjoyed the sight of the town square a buzz with Christmas preparations, the centre tree tall and resplendent in the decorations the townspeople had laid upon it. It was a very busy place, people were coming and going, ignoring her, stepping round her, greeting each other and inquiring about respective families and plans for the Christmas break.

Around a corner she came upon a sight that puzzled her. A long queue stood before a door that was festooned with a Christmas wreath. She approached a door as a woman emerged, saw her and asked if she was there to volunteer. The Princess looked at her briefly enough for the woman to ascertain she had intimated a yes and ushered her through the door into a room that was filled with tables with people rushing about setting out chairs, cutlery, carrying one thing and another and generally creating an atmosphere of great urgency.

The lady in charge handed her a stack of plates and asked for them to be taken to the kitchen. That was easy to find as she could smell the kitchen and found a vast kitchen inhabited by an army of cooks and assistants.

The Princess had stumbled upon a soup kitchen gearing up for Christmas dinner. To her amazement she was immediately put to work for very soon after her arrival the doors opened and the guests began filling up the room.

She had never worked so hard in her life by the end of the day she as so tired she found it hard to stand up. Maryanne the kitchen supervisor congratulated her on her work and asked if she would come back the next year as she appreciated dedicated hard working assistants.

The Princess mumbled something that she hoped sounded like an acceptance and headed back to her castle. As she left the now empty room an old man leaned forward and touched her on the arm.

‘You did well Princess, I am so happy to see you here among your community.’

Taken aback she looked around to see if anyone heard him but it seemed everyone was intent on finishing their day and getting home themselves. She looked back at the old man who smiled at her and said: “You father will be so proud of you.’

‘He will?’ She asked wondering what her father might say to see her now.

‘Oh yes, very proud,’ re-interated the old man.

The Princess blushed and hurried on her way, as tired as she was she did want to get home before anyone else recognised her.

As she slipped through the side door of the castle she found her father sitting inside waiting for her.

‘I know what you did today,’ he said. ‘ I’m very proud of you, it takes a lot of courage to go through the side door and engage in what’s beyond it.’

‘How did you know?’ asked the Princess.

Her father smiled at her, put his arm around her and asked: ‘Didn’t one of the cooks look familiar? Didn’t Maryanne remind you of your mother?’

The Princess thought for a moment and realised she had been so wrapped up in her task she failed to notice her mother and father amongst the workers.

Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/12/26/fairytale-prompt-40/

Posted in MLM | Tagged , , , , | 15 Comments

The Legend of Awdangit (Tale Weaver) – Twenty-Two

Posted on December 25, 2014 by Michael

photo(17)

In the back corner of my garden right behind the birds nest ferns lives the spirit of the garden. It is a small frail looking being, sharp pointy ears, a wickedly infectious smile and as nippy at getting about as you could possibly imagine.
Twenty-Two lives to maintain harmony in my garden. For without its guiding hand the plants would run amok, the universe would undoubtedly go into free fall and as Twenty- Two says to me on so many occasions: ‘Where would all that leave us.’
He goes about his business in the quietest most unobtrusive way. I see him from time to time wandering through the ferns chatting to each one, drawing lines in the ground marking territory, some ferns I have to say are very territorial and have little respect for the needs of other plants.
For example the tree fern is acting very obtusely of late. It’s a bit of a Johnny-Come-Lately in the garden but has taken a little more than its fair share of the space so is crowding out the not as robust plants and I know Twenty-Two has spoken to it on more than one occasion.
What tree fern doesn’t understand nor get is that Twenty-Two has the power to put an end to its aggression. I’ve seen it happen before where one plant tried to take over the whole garden space only to find Twenty-Two has the power to cut off your water supply.
Tree Fern is the bully of my garden and as attractive and as proud I am of its growth from one scrawny frond to the size it is today I also understand the need for it to pull its head in, literally, and get along much better with the other plants. I am sure Twenty-Two will succeed, he always does.
I was always bamboozled by his name until I realised his name reflects the address is living in. My house is 22 and so when he is here he is known as Twenty-Two. When he goes next door, for Garden Harmony Spirits do travel the neighbourhood, he takes on that number, so tomorrow he may be Twenty-Four or Sixteen depending where he is.
As yesterday was Christmas Day he and I made our Christmas morning complete by sitting in the garden and enjoying our early morning cup of tea. Twenty-Two is very partial to a strong herbal tea. We do this each Christmas, during which time we discuss the garden, the plants of concern, and plans I might have to replant or expand.
At the moment he is having his annual battle with Tradescantia fluminensis known as Wandering Jew to us. This plant has a mind of its own and obeys no laws; in fact it invades the garden on a regular basis a fact that Twenty-Two is always pointing out to me urging me to pull it out to curb its aggressive behaviour. Because it’s a crawling plant as Twenty-Two points out its hard to curb its behaviour which I know has always, as long as I can remember been the issue with it in the garden. Twenty-Two says the cursed thing doesn’t even converse in English as it’s come from Argentina and jabbers away in Plant Spanish so he is forever having to translate. Twenty-Two rolls his eyes and says he will keep trying.
Apart from those concerns Twenty-Two and I get along well. He likes my garden, there is a nice balance he says and all the plants, the ferns especially are happy where they are. It makes his job so much easier.
So after a while and a good chin wag as he puts it we great each other with Merry Christmas and off he goes over the fence to Twenty where he says the mint is growing out of control again and he has to convince it that it takes more than an attractive aroma to make any plant useful in the garden and to know its place.

Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/12/25/the-legend-of-awdangit/

Posted in MLM | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

Mondays Finish the Story – December 22nd, 2014 – Athol’s Wine

Posted on December 24, 2014 by Michael

2014-12-22-bw-beacham

Finish the story begins with: “As the year wound down to a close, they gathered around the table and raised their glasses.”

There were sighs of relief; surely the next year could only be an improvement. The struggles they had endured had taken their toll. None of them were getting younger, their once youthful figures were long since gone and the major social events they attended were funerals.

At least there was one thing that remained unchanged.

Athol’s Wine. He had been making it a long time and they had been drinking it just as long.

There was something about Athol’s Wine they enjoyed every time they supped together. It was more than the flavour, a rich and fruity taste that hung on your tongue long enough to make you realise how good it was to be alive.

No it was the elixir value, after all the coming year would bring about their centenaries a rare moment indeed for the worlds longest surviving sextuplets.

Merry Christmas they chortled to one another.

Written for: http://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2014/12/22/mondays-finish-the-story-december-22nd-2014/

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 12 Comments