FOWC with Fandango — Traffic

Posted on October 3, 2018 by Michael

fowc

Bumper to bumper, row upon row,

The woman in front on her phone

Not watching, not concentrating,

As we progress, she’s somewhere off with the fairies.

Around me, there is a sense of resignation

As inch by inch we move, if at all.

My mind focuses on the dinner awaiting me

The loved ones expecting me

And here I am stuck in an abyss of traffic chaos.

I know I should have left earlier

Been better organized, sometimes you hate hindsight.

A horn blasts out frustration

A voice is heard, anger mounts as time goes by

A mother two cars across looks at her baby

It’s visibly upset, I see her distress

My heart goes out to her

Inside I know there’s someone worse off than me.

It takes another hour to reach my exit

From there the traffic is well behaved

Flows as it should and I feel relief

When at last I’m in my street.

 

Written for: https://fivedotoh.com/2018/10/03/fowc-with-fandango-traffic/

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

100 Word Wednesday: Week 91- Started Writing.

Posted on October 3, 2018 by Michael

100ww_w91

Image: Toa Heftiba

It was a sad end to everything. It was as if life as she knew it came to a sudden and extremely rude conclusion.

She looked across the table at him with tears in her eyes saying he had gone. There was regret, she knew she was to blame, leading him on in ways not always of her doing but dictated by outside forces she had little control over.

What to do now was her dilemma. It was now that she had to contend with.

She opened her diary, sipped of her coffee, and grabbing her charged phone started writing.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2018/10/03/100-word-wednesday-week-91/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Mr Marsden Part 8

Posted on October 2, 2018 by Michael

architecture_design_flowers_landscape_design-1057829d

Previous parts can be found here:

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/19/mr-marsden/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/19/mr-marsden-part-2/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/24/mr-marsden-part-3/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/26/mr-marsden-part-4/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/27/mr-marsden-part-5/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/29/mr-marsden-part-6/

Mr Marsden Part 7

 

As Mr Marsden entered his kitchen behind Ayls, he saw surrounding her an aura that dazzled him.

Ayls emitted a light that was truly blinding, and he was aware that she was some special girl, most likely possessing powers he didn’t and most likely ignorant of what she did possess.

From his experience, the Novitiates were not a common group and only selected persons were bestowed with such magnificent power.

Mr Marsden sat Ayls down at the kitchen table and put the kettle on. This situation called for a strong cup of tea, and he had just the brew in waiting.

Reaching up to the top shelf of his pantry he took down the metal container containing his “Think Deep” tea and put a liberal amount into the teapot. Once the kettle boiled he filled the teapot and twisted it three times clockwise and then the same anti-clockwise.

The tea inside rumbled a few times, indicating its readiness. He poured two cups and sat one in front of Ayls who was curiously looking around his kitchen and in particular eyeing the metal containers lining his very top shelf.

“Here,” said Mr Marsden, “get you lips around some of this, it will calm us and give us time to have a good think about what to do next.”

Ayls took the steaming cup from him and ran a finger around the rim of the cup. It was then Mr Marsden knew he had his work cut out for him. The tea in Ayls’ cup trothed and bubbled, a yellow steam rose from it, and the cup itself turned an unfamiliar pink in Ayls’ hands. She put it down quickly hoping to avoid any chance of being burnt by the bubbling liquid and pushed herself back from the table.

“Mr Marsden?” asked Ayls, “What sort of tea is that?”

“It’s thinking tea Ayls, and its never behaved like that before.”

“I’m not too keen to drink it, Mr Marsden. I think I’ll watch it a bit first.”

As she did so, the tea settled in its cup returning to a more acceptable tea colour.

Then to Mr Marsden’s surprise, Ayls waved her hand over the cup and the liquid turned to ice. “I actually prefer iced tea Mr Marsden, it’s less likely to scald me.”

Her looking around must have had an effect on the kitchen as Mr Marsden soon noticed the crockery behaving unusually, the plates began to rattle, then jump slightly and then suddenly one flew across the room landing on the ironing board, another settling on the stove and the others were behaving in a decidedly uncrockery manner.

Then a glance at Ayls and she was swaying as if dancing and the kitchen was part of her dance.

“It’s such fun Mr Marsden, but it does drive mum crazy,” said a delighted Ayls as she began dancing around the kitchen floor, the plates, the cups, the sauces all doing their own thing in tune with some inaudible beat. Before long she had a conga line formed behind her much to Mr Marsden’s amazement. The line stretched around the kitchen with Mr Marsden’s wooden spoons bringing up the rear.

Then as Ayls appeared to have had enough she gave another wave of her hand and everything returned to its place and order was restored.

“Most impressive my dear,” said Mr Marsden getting his breath back which had been held for sometime while his kitchen flew around his aging head.

“Such fun,” announced Ayls as she sipped on her tea.

“I think we have a lot to learn from each other,” said Mr Marsden, his mind running with mixed thoughts as to what to do with Ayls.

 

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

JSW Prompt 10-1-2018 – Almost Lovable.

Posted on October 1, 2018 by Michael

ffee5942ac8c3f76a4f0d97dd927f063

You arrived at a most inopportune time

Life for me was not good, fate was conspiring against me

The torment I felt must have shown on my face

I’m embarrassed by what transpired.

 

Something that must have appeared trivial to you

Was being blown out of scale and bigger than it should have been.

The upturned faces, the malice of words angrily uttered

Created a scenario from which I now cringe.

 

She was prone to moments of irrationality

Flying off the handle to manufacture a scene

From there the twist of reality to make it all my fault

Must have left you wondering what you were buying into.

 

My humiliation was demonstrated by my leaving the room

I refused to return, I wanted to be rid of that situation

Knowing you had witnessed it didn’t help

I wondered how I might overcome my shame.

 

I’m not like that, I want that known,

I’m no heartless self-centred bastard,

If you give me a chance you’ll see for yourself

Behind the tears and the indignity, you saw,

 

Lies a man, a good man almost loveable.

 

 

Written for: https://athling2001.wordpress.com/2018/10/01/jsw-prompt-10-1-2018/

 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Daily Writing Challenge #1 – The Pumpkin Patch

Posted on October 1, 2018 by Michael

pumpkins-1819757_1280

Image: Google Images, labelled for re-use.

The challenge for today is to take a trip to a pumpkin patch.

The people who live in our town are referred to as pumpkin pickers. Our local footy team is known by the same name.

Around the district, farms are cultivated with pumpkin vines and not only are the pumpkins sold at market, but nearly every farm has a barrow at their front gate where you could buy excess pumpkins cheaply.

One such farm is the Pumpkin Patch. Peter Perkins is the pumpkin farmer and a good one at that. His pumpkins win prizes at the local show, they are known as the tastiest and most succulent of pumpkins grown anywhere.

The secret is in the fact that the Pumpkin Patch is located next to the sewerage works and it is known that the seepage from the sewerage works is instrumental in making Peter Perkins’ farm the most fertile around.

One year he won best pumpkin at the annual Easter Show in the city. The winning pumpkin was over 25 kilos and made the Pumpkin Patch more famous than it already was.

 

Written for: https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/10/01/daily-writing-challenge-1/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

Bonus Wordle “The Letter C” – Carol and Carl.

Posted on October 1, 2018 by Michael

unnamed y

This week’s words: Callous Counterweight Cervical Closure Currency Consider Chronic Cause City Crush Consider Contemptuous

 

Carol Counterweight had a crush on Carl Cooper. Carl was a callous chap, and people wondered what Carol saw in him.

Nevertheless, when Carol revealed she had a chronic cervical condition, it was Carl who brought closure to the contemptuous rumours that threatened to add unwanted currency to their caustic relationship.

The cause of all this was jealousy as Carl and Carol considered, and then considered again, the purpose of their relationship.

Once Carol was over her chronic cervical condition Carl took her to the city where he splashed around his abundant currency, took her to a top class restaurant where he wined and dined her at the Consider the Catfish Corner Bar and Chill Grill.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/10/01/bonus-wordle-the-letter-c/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Mr Marsden Part 7

Posted on September 30, 2018 by Michael

architecture_design_flowers_landscape_design-1057829d

Earlier parts to the story can be found here:

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/19/mr-marsden/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/19/mr-marsden-part-2/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/24/mr-marsden-part-3/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/26/mr-marsden-part-4/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/27/mr-marsden-part-5/

Mr Marsden Part 6

Mr Marsden looked around to see Ayls Main standing at the door of the container looking innocently at him. This puzzled Mr Marsden as he was certain he had left the gate locked and his keep out potion was in operation.

Ayls was in her school uniform and on her way home.

“How did you get in?” asked Mr Marsden, “I’m sure I left the gate locked.”

“I have a way with locks Mr Marsden,” replied Ayls looking even more innocent.

“I see,” said Mr Marsden immediately aware of what powers Ayls must possess to get past his locks which weren’t like ordinary locks but rather magical locks only opened by a wizard or witch of equal power to his own.

He looked intensely at the small girl who beamed up at him as if she had just read his mind.

Over the scope of his long life, he had heard of people like Ayls, but this was his first encounter with what he was taught were Novitiates. The Novitiates were witches or wizards who as children emerged from their communities and who if discovered early enough could be taught the mastery of spell and potion.

He knew the emergence of a young and powerful witch was always on the cards, but as he hadn’t come across one, he assumed there would be none in his part of the world.

There was a part of him excited by the prospect and another part cringing in the knowledge of what he was seeing before him.

“So, what would you like to talk about?” he asked.

“All this,” answered Ayls, “the container, the magic flowers, you, I want to know all I can as I think I too have some magic too.”

“Indeed,” said a quizzical Mr Marsden. He looked down on the small girl and remembered a time when his father had told him he was destined to be a wizard. He had to confess to himself that he never exhibited the enthusiasm Ayls was showing.

“It’s a difficult journey you will have to take,” he explained. “When did you think you had some magic about you?”

“The day you gave me the rose to take for my teacher. You said it would be the colour I selected but when I got to school it had changed, and when I looked at it wishing it was back as the blood red I had chosen and then it did. I made sure no one saw me before I took it into my teacher. When I went home I tried it with a flower from mum’s garden, it was a yellow kangaroo paw, and I could do the same thing, change it to a red colour. Then I did some experiments with other things, and it frightened me, Mr Marsden, I didn’t and still don’t know what I am capable of.”

“I agree it’s a scary business Ayls, but if you want to learn then I can teach you, and I’m sure along the way you can teach me somethings. Let’s go inside and sit a while and have a chat,” said Mr Marsden leading the way towards his back door. He stepped back to allow Ayls to enter before him and watched as she raised her hand to the door ad it opened. She entered as if that was something she did every day.

“How long have you been able to open doors like that?” asked Mr Marsden.

“Oh, a long time now, I never thought of it as anything special, just something I can do.”

“It’s not anything Ayls, not every young witch can do that without what seems an effort, you do it as if its second nature.”

It was then, as they entered his kitchen that Mr Marsden saw what truly did amaze him.

Posted in Uncategorized, writing challenge | Tagged , , , | 9 Comments

Sunday Writing Prompt “Lady Lazarus- Sylvia Plath”

Posted on September 30, 2018 by Michael

unnamed4

The crazy woman looked up from her diary

Pen in hand, eyes a million miles away

She smirked, jotted a word or two

Her tongue out the side of her mouth

Her mind on an incident from long ago.

 

The child was playing beside the road

The car came, as cars did, swerved missing her

Panicked, her mother, watching her, ran to her aid

The girl oblivious to the danger, innocence personified

Sat with her mother listening to her anxiety.

 

The crazy woman wrote another word then screamed:

“Fuck you, fuck mothers, fuck you all.”

It was the maniacal laughter that aroused the staff

She’s off again they thought as one grabbed the syringe.

Holding her down they put her to sleep, for her, for them.

 

The child crawled down from her mother’s lap

Sat in the dirt, her mind confused by her mother’s urgency

There she listened as her mother rattled off the familiar tale

Abandonment, abuse, trauma, her dad, her uncle

None of it made sense, but she knew it would.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/09/30/sunday-writing-prompt-lady-lazarus-sylvia-plath/

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

Mr Marsden Part 6

Posted on September 29, 2018 by Michael

architecture_design_flowers_landscape_design-1057829d

Earlier parts can be found here:

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/19/mr-marsden/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/19/mr-marsden-part-2/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/24/mr-marsden-part-3/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/26/mr-marsden-part-4/

https://summerstommy.com/2018/09/27/mr-marsden-part-5/

 

By fun, Mr Marsden meant the mystery of discovering what impact the potion he chose to experiment with would have on the fledgling carrot plants.

Sure, enough within a few days he saw evidence of the seeds germinating and the tiny, frail plants begin to emerge from the soil. Another week and he would thin the crop and then see what became of them.

There was one potion he was curious to use on a plant and the carrots seemed the most likely. He had over the years perfected a potion to counter baldness and it had proved effective for most men and on occasion the odd woman.

So, with the crop thinned he went down the rows spreading the potion in a rather liberal dose.

By now his plants were about three inches in height with hopefully a few more inches to go.

Nothing happened for a few days and he started to think the potion may not work on the carrots. But by the next day, his opinion changed considerably.

He came out to see the strangest sight, the carrot tops had changed to a bright orange much like he anticipated the roots would be. Not only that but he could see the roots which had risen above the soil level were now a bright green.

Mr Marsden’s first reaction was he might need sunglasses in future as the colours were dazzling to say the least.

But when he bent to inspect them further, he heard a voice: “What cha lookin’ at buster?” Then another voice to his left: “He’s a right loser.” And then “You lookin’ at me, eh?”

The voices started to come at him from all angles and he was taken aback when he realised the voices sounded like the voices he’d heard in an old gangster movie. He tried to remember what he had put in the potion and whether or not he’d been watching a gangster film at the time of mixing it as he’d discovered there were times when the environment around the mixing of a potion had somehow influenced the outcome.

“Best tell Lefty you comin’ round, eh?” announced a carrot to his right and then another stated: “He’s gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Like what?” Mr Marsden heard himself say, immediately wondering what had caused him to react that way when normally the plants existed in their world and he in his, even the geraniums.

“We wanna take over this joint,” replied a tough voice in front of him. “Yeah,” came a chorus, “We gonna take over.”

With that Mr Marsden took his shovel and dug up the offending carrot. There was a scream, a collective gasp and then silence followed by muttering of the type only carrots make.

“Okay, Okay,” came a voice less belligerent, “The guy has no sense of humour and its cost us Ralphie.” Ralphie he assumed was the now limp orange topped carrot he had just dug up. Though Mr Marsden was impressed with the size of the actual carrot he now held in his hand.

“It’s a size thing I know,” came a female voice away to his right, “some guys just can’t get over it can they?”

Mr Marsden then thought of his geraniums and wondered how the two might get on then he shuddered thinking it could be an experiment to even make him blush.

Just then he was startled by a voice coming from the door of the container.

“Hello Mr Marsden, can we talk?”

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

Weekend Writing Prompt #74 – Brandish

Posted on September 29, 2018 by Michael

wk-74-brandish

On any Monday morning, you could have heard a pin drop the bank was so quiet. But when the robbers came in brandishing their guns, the quiet was over. Their voices strident with orders, their physical selves intimidating to Mrs Jones who had just wandered in.

Once they had the attention of the tellers, they brandished large plastic bags in the faces of the terrified workers demanding they be filled.

It was all over so quickly, money stashed in the thieves’ bags, they flashed their weapons in the faces of the staff and were out the door and gone.  Left behind were the workers, cringing in fear of their lives.

 

Written for: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/09/29/weekend-writing-prompt-74-brandish/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , | Leave a comment