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Showing posts from February, 2019
Crossing The Line As the ship drew closer to the line the sea king began to lick his lips in anticipation of the fat fresh tadpoles which Big O and his waiters would be serve on his return from the ceremony. Of course, tadpoles that could swim in the ocean were unknown, but Big O knew that the frogs on the ship would have given birth long before the line was crossed. They were the king’s favourite party food and he had already a collection of shells to serve them in. He had been training the waiters for some time. He always did when they heard that a ship was approaching the line. His octopuses were in great demand. With eight arms they were the king’s waiters of choice and he had more standing by ready to become wine waiters. They would serve the rum that would be gifted when the king went on board and roared and waved his sceptre around a bit and struck the deck with three loud raps to signal his judgement on which tadpoles should become food for his homecoming party and which h
Monsters It’s the monsters who come out of the light that are the most fearsome, but those that sneak up from the dark are the ones we fear the most, even though they’re smaller, and often as afraid as we are. That’s why they hide and sneak in the dark places. The ones hiding in the sunlight are the more difficult to see and the most monstrous. They lie in wait blending in and waiting, waiting to pounce and destroy destroy us all to destroy all. https://sirenscallpublications.wordpress.com/
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If I Were A Butterfly If I were a butterfly where would I fly? I could grace every home bringing good luck every time. Make sure that my children ate up all the weeds, and recycled the waste without judgement or hate. In a world that’s at peace I’d find my place. Hmm, if I were a butterfly I’d think this must wait. If I were a butterfly where would I fly? If my soul were parochial it would hang in my space, It would look pretty in my garden, propagate where I said, and keep watch with indulgence as my kids ate the rest. If I were a butterfly I’d think this was sad. A life is too short to live in the past. If I were a butterfly where would I fly? Like all souls of dead warriors for justice and peace, I’d fly down the throats of the haters, war mongers, arms traders, parasitic self servers. Yes. They’d choke on my body and ingest my eggs. My children would eat them, feast on them, thrive then fly on to the next. Yes. If I were a butterfly that’s where I’d fly. If I were a but
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Bubbles The bubbles reflect my dream so perfectly they could be made of glass. Perhaps they are made of glass, how else can the rainbows shine through. https://blognostics.net/blognostics-an-innovative-experi…/…/ BLOGNOSTICS.NET Bubbles by Lynn White Bubbles by Lynn White The bubbles reflect my dream so perfectly they could be made of glass....READ MORE
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Where Am I? Where shall I sit in this place I don’t know. Which side of the aisle Should I be. Or should I be at the front conducting the ceremony like a lecture. I’ve done that often enough when I knew where I was. Or maybe I should stand at the back ready for a quick getaway. I couldn’t do that at my wedding, but if it’s my funeral I think that’s the best place for me. But is it? So difficult to know. https://uglywriters.com/2019/02/23/where-am-i/
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Harmony We began so well, so in tune, catching the notes dropped by angels and playing with them before they fell, creating a perfect harmony. But then, we started to miss a few notes which fell, crashing into our rhythms, disrupting the flow of our music, upsetting our harmony. Just a few at first, but they violated our space, causing us to miss our step and almost fall ourselves. Then, bar after bar came tumbling down. Cascades of discords raining down between us. No longer dropped by angels. Surely not? Now we are finished and falling tunelessly. Lost. Loudly separated by discords. Floundering. Our past melodies out of reach, devoid of harmony. https://academyoftheheartandmind.wordpress.com/…/…/harmony/… ACADEMYOFTHEHEARTANDMIND.WORDPRESS.COM “Harmony” By Lynn White   We began so well, so in tune, catching the notes dropped by angels and playing with them before they fell, creating a perfect harmony. But then, we started to miss a few notes …
Lizard The lizard ran out quickly. He sat on a rock  and looked up slowly checking the progress of the sun. It suited him so he stayed and stayed soaking up the warmth relaxing. Relaxed but alert only moving when disturbed by food or danger moving quickly then back into his hideaway. https://blognostics.net/blognostics-an-innovative-experi…/…/ BLOGNOSTICS.NET Lizard by Lynn White Lizard by Lynn White The lizard ran out quickly. He sat on a rock and looked up slowly....READ MORE
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Superman With Angel’s Wings It’s a place that needs a superman a superman with angel’s wings giant wings big enough to fold their soft feathers around it encircle it in a feathery hug keep it safe lift it up paint out the grey and bring it back to what it was before before the crash took away the colour took away the joy took away the hope. An angel alone couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have the strength. Superman alone couldn’t do it. He didn’t have the wings to spread and circle this place to comfort it to hold it safe to lift it up. It’s a place that needs a superman with angel’s wings to perform the miracle and then fly away to the next place. http://online.fliphtml5.com/tpuo/bfub/#p=1 ONLINE.FLIPHTML5.COM flight (Nightingale & Sparrow, Issue No. I) Nightingale & Sparrow Literary Magazine is proud to present their first issue, flight. This volume features the poetry, creative nonfiction, fiction, and photography of more than 50 amazing creators
The Skin I'm In I used to wonder how I would grow and yet still fit in the skin I'm in. If we would grow together, me and my skin. Well, we seemed to have done quite well for a long time. I used to wonder how you would grow, and if you would still fit the skin you are in. And if we would grow together and stay intact in our separate skins. Well, we seemed to have done, for a long time anyway. Now I wonder… Am I still the same person under the skin? Are you? I think I am. The outside has changed. But inside my skin I am intact. Myself as before. I think. Not quite so comfortable in my new skin, though. It doesn't fit me too well. Doesn't always represent me. Doesn't look like I still feel. Like I still am? What about you? Are you still that person in your new skin? I'm not sure now if the inside has also been renewed, changed. And if it is only on the outside, that we have changed together. https://merakmag.com/the-skin-im-in/
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Pure Gold We were the pure gold people. The golden generation of bouncing baby boomers who had it all, the best music, the most fun and the security and optimism of a golden future. Now we have had our golden future. it is done. Tarnished, cracking up, fragmenting, turning to sharp dust and black mud. And ashes, darker still. We were there at the beginning of the gold rush. Now we’re at the end and we know there will be no more future. The gold has melted away. Only base metal is left and even that is fragmenting, turning to sharp dust and black mud. And darker ashes already to bury all those golden dreams. By: Lynn White We were the pure gold people. The golden generation of bouncing baby boomers who had it all, the best music, the most fun and the security and optimism of a golden future. Now we hav… SPILLWORDS.COM Pure Gold, a poem written by Lynn White at Spillwords.com Spillwords.com  presents: Pure Gold, by Lynn White, who lives in North Wales. Her
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The Empty Room When I was small my grandparents occupied the empty room - all eight of them. I know now that my great grandparents must have been there before. But I hadn’t heard about great grandparents. I knew about grandparents because other children had them, though I never knew mine. They were always in the empty room. They left only to make way for my father. My mother joined him later. later still my brother displaced them. He’s there still, but fading. But then, he always was a flimsy figure, hardly more real than my grandparents. It’s still locked to me. I still can’t get in. But I will one day when my brother leaves. I don’t know when, though. Don’t know how soon that will be. http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/pdfs/SirensCallEZine_December2018.pdf
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All of a Flutter Here I come all of a flutter, a flapping frenzy of feathers determined to find a space in the cooing crowd. A space that fits me. A space befitting a bird of a feather. And now I’m ready, red legged and pigeon toed ready to strut my stuff with the rest. We’ll take those tasty tourist titbits with a bow here, and a coo there. We’re their strutting stars shining iridescently making their day until our finale when we rise up as one, all of a flutter, a flapping fluttering frenzy ready for the next audience. https://www.foliateoak.com/lynn-white.html