The Grey Men It was an ordinary outing to the cinema for the little girl and her mother. But first, the Pathe News showing a large meeting - “the United nations”, her mother said. A fat, bald mad was shouting angrily. Then he took off his shoe and banged it on the table. Next came a shot of the listening faces. Grey men - well the film was black and white, but she thought they would be grey even in Technicolor. They were frozen speechless with shock. “What’s it all about?” she asked her mother. It seemed he was angry because of some perceived injustice or hypocrisy. It sounded reasonable to the little girl. “But it just isn’t done”, said her mother. “you just can’t do that. Not there. Not in such a place”. “But he did do that”, said the little girl. And she thought of the shocked expressions on the faces of the faceless grey men and thought: “I would do that”. She pictured them again and thought: “I will do that” and I think she did. The gr...
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Gloria I called the doll Gloria. I no longer know why. My father bought her for me on a trip to the seaside, on my first trip to the seaside. I was bored with the endless sand and the cold grey sea and with the effort of pretending to enjoy myself on my expensive treat, at the seaside. We went to a toyshop after and my father bought me the doll. I called her Gloria. I no longer no why. Perhaps it was the name he suggested. Or maybe my mother suggested it when I couldn’t decide. I don’t remember. But I remember the doll. She had real hair that I could comb. But it turned out to be plastic, nylon, I think. And after I had combed it a few times, the whole lot came off leaving her bald. Yes without her wig she was completely bald, my Gloria. http://www.quailbellmagazine.com/…/poem-gloria-by-lynn-white
Next Time It was a hard landing but I’m all in one piece and maybe, I’ll have fallen on my feet and be able to try again, to make it an opportunity to build something better when I step in from the cold. Are you coming with me? https://the13alphabet.wordpress.com/…/the-2nd-issue-of-bon…/ About This Website THE13ALPHABET.WORDPRESS.COM The 2nd Issue of BONSAI JOURNAL: Read It Here Welcome to the Second issue of BONSAI journal (a part of The 13 Alphabet Magazine), an online magazine dedicated to the creative. Featuring creatives in the fields of literature & arts. And to …
The Old Curiosities Shop “Curiouser and curiouser”, cried Alice as she rummaged through the remnants of other people’s lives, now offered for sale, to become part of another person’s life. “Curiouser and curiouser”, she said holding up two fat schoolboy salt and pepper pots. “They look like real characters, I shall name them Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber, for now.” She searched in vain for a looking glass to see if she could walk through it. She had heard this was sometimes a curious possibility. But among the objects in a large shiny bag, she did find a set of playing cards with a fearsome looking Queen of Hearts. “I could write a good story about her”, she thought. She found the butler with his empty tray somewhat unsatisfactory. So she removed the tray and hung a tape measure round his neck and put a thimble on his finger. Now he could measure his former master for a new suit, she thought. She was pleased with the transformation and thought that maybe it was now time t...
Good Thick Darkness The darkness enfolds me like a cloak, a good thick winter one with a deep velvety pile warm and comforting matching it’s shape to mine, the good thick darkness. It was blue before, then blue black turning purple purple black before the good thick blackness came the good thick blackness that I need to wrap me, the good thick blackness that I like. And I know that all too soon it will be broken penetrated, first by the harsh, pinpoint lights of stars glittery things pointlessly breaking up my dark and then as the day breaks through splitting it open cutting it blue, the blue day breaking like a knife opening up a wound ripping through my comfort, my darkness. Not thick enough at all. https://visualverse.org/submissions/good-thick-darkness/
Photo Opportunity I watched the man crossing the path underneath the cascade of the waterfall. It had been part of the route wine was carried from the high lands, to be sold on the coast. Back in the old days, that was. But the old days weren’t very long ago. He seemed confident as he placed a foot carefully in each of the footholds hacked into the precipitous rock face. He gripped the thick metal hawser attached to the rock with strong metal rings. Gripped it firmly and proceeded slowly one step at a time. I had a camera and I thought that it was a picture he would like to have when he was dry and safe back on terra firma. Then I thought, suppose he falls, falls into the waves, to be smashed against the rocks far below. I didn’t want to have such a picture, a picture of someone’s last moments and I thought, to take it may jinx his journey and even cause him to fall. So I never took the picture. But it made no difference. The man fell anyway. First published in Bold + Italic, ...
Sea Horse It was on the first day of our seaside holiday that I found him washed up, stranded, spat out by the sea and swimming alone in the rock pool. I had never seen a sea horse before, only pictures in a book. I used my shoe to fish him out and ran back quickly, one shoe on and one shoe off, before the water leaked out. I put him in the sink and watched him swim. He didn’t seem quite right. Or maybe it was the pictures that were wrong, or my memory. He couldn’t stay in the sink. My mother made that quite clear. So I found him a jar in the cobwebby shed and put him in that. I fed him on bits of bread, minced meat and mashed banana. He spat them all out angrily. I thought he would die from lack of food and my mother said he couldn’t come home with us. So I took him back to the waters edge and released him, gave him back to the sea. The next day I found him lying on the pebbles. The sea had rejected him, spat him out, just as he had spat out my food offerings. I carried him back,...
A Timely Revolution “I’m late, I’m late again”, said the White Rabbit staring at his pocket watch with exasperation. He turned the minute hand back a little and perused the new time with satisfaction. He knew the effect would be limited, that there would be no revolution in time unless he could turn back the hands on all the clocks everywhere, but it made him feel better briefly. He had pondered this issue of time many times. He knew that the revolutions of clocks and watches were irrelevant to it’s passing, which made him feel better about his manipulation. Philosophically speaking, he knew that he could change the time. He could break the watch and freeze it. Break all the wheels that revolved inside. Smash them to smithereens. But even then, even when broken, he knew the wheels of time would keep turning, that even, given time, there would be no timely revolution. The wheels would still turn time after time. https://blognostics.net/…/a-tim...
In the Clouds I’ve seen a dragon in the clouds and a humming bird and a tea table set for tea. Some say they’ve seen Christ or Mohamed, or fairy kings and queens. They have all stayed a while, my shapes in the cloud. None have left. Not until now. Now, when I saw the man with his tufts of hair growing haphazardly here and there. With his open red mouth already blooded. With the sunlight shining through his eyes. I have never seen such colours in the clouds. And now he seems to be leaving, not blown away, but stepping out looking hungrily towards me. http://www.lulu.com/…/the-g…/paperback/product-23685698.html Buy THE GATEWAY REVIEW by Volume 4 Issue 2 (Paperback) online at Lulu. Visit the Lulu Marketplace for product details, ratings, and reviews. LULU.COM THE GATEWAY REVIEW by Volume 4 Issue 2 (Paperback) - Lulu Buy THE GATEWAY REVIEW by Volume 4 Issue 2 (Paperback) online at Lulu. Visit the Lulu Marketplace for product details, ratings, and… ...
Closed It was a beautiful village, the sun was shining, the mountain air pure, a perfect place for a coffee. We could see two cafes, but the first we tried was closed, closed for a while by the looks. The second looked hopeful with tables and chairs outside but the door was locked. An elderly man came over and explained. that it only opened at weekends. The other had closed because the people had left the village. They all want to live in the town, he told us and now the houses are empty and there are just a few tourists who come at weekends to drink a coffee or a beer. He told us to sit at a table and went into a house across the street and returned with a tray and three good French coffees made in his own kitchen. So we sat in the sunshine breathing in the pure mountain air, a perfect place for a coffee with our new friend. https://www.erothanatos.com/vol2issue4 EROTHANATOS.COM Erothanatos, Volume 2 Issue 4 Erothanatos, Volume 2 Issue 4, October 2018 ...
Magical Child In this strange new world it’s hardly surprising that a strange child has slithered it’s way through the dark passage, the secret tunnel that others have feared to enter. In this strange new world such magic is normal and unsurprising. So come to me, magical child and we will find new secrets, new passage ways to a different future and spread magic as we breathe. https://blognostics.net/…/06/29/magical-child-by-lynn-white/ Magical Child by Lynn White In this strange new world it’s hardly surprising that a strange child has slithered it’s way through the....READ MORE