The Clasp

THE CLASP

Said Great-Grandmama ' I'll clasp it tight

Nevermore to see the light!

I'll look at his stupid face no more

For he's run off with the woman next door!'

*
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PERPETUAL MOTION

Don't analyze! Let your eyes dance across the painting.
Who cares what they are? Who cares what they do?
Someone has captured the wind and almost pinned it down!
*

Shoo Shoe!

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/2011/02/
A short, short story


SHOO SHOE!

Pretty little Fairy Fay

Found a human shoe one day.

It smelt so bad, she thought it wiser

To doctor it with deodoriser.

*
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DRASTIC MEASURES

Monty had an awful cold, and he thought it might be flu,
So he visited his Doctor to see what he could do.
The Doctor gave him several pills and suggested time in bed.
'You should be right as rain quite soon' the cheerful Doctor said.
Monty did as he was told, obeying to the letter,
But, sad to say, as time went by, he felt not one whit better.
Once more he sought the Doctor's help to battle his infection;
The doctor thought a bit and then he gave him an injection.
'Go home and rest and it will work in no time you will see.'
So Monty did as he was told, exactly, to a T.
Again the dreadful cold persisted; the worst he'd ever caught!
Back to the surgery he went, quite feverish and distraught.
He pleaded with the Doctor 'For Pete's sake find a cure!
This snuffling and this hacking cough I really can't endure!'
'There's only one thing for it' said the Doctor 'Take a shower.
Then stand in front of an open window naked for an hour.'
'Are you crazy?' blurted Monty. 'It's winter-time and freezing!
I think you're making fun of me; you surely must be teasing!'
Then the Doctor said 'I'm serious! And this will work for sure!
Because then you'll catch pneumonia! And that's something I can cure!
*

Hangover

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/2011/02
supplied the prompt

HANGOVER!

I knew I shouldn't have drunk so much!

Now I'm really in strife!

Which room belongs to Hot-Lips

And which one to my wife?

*
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SHADOW ON SHINE

Shadow on shine or shine on shadow?
What a conundrum to tease the brain?
Shade and reflection, sheen and shimmer,
All set-off by the bright wood-grain.
*

Betwixt and Between

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/2011/

A very short short story!

BETWIXT AND BETWEEN

I do wish Lance wasn't bi-sexual!

Life is so hard when one's gay!

Rory's so green he's not noticing

Lance is having a hat-and-dress day!

*

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A Gerald Gee Cartoon

HEADLIGHTS

I'd love to have a bosom that lit up in the dark!

Imagine! Rinkly strolling after midnight in the park!

I could turn my beams on straight ahead

The blackness would not lead to dread;

I'd stride out sure of foot instead

And never miss my mark!

*

No tripping over stones for me, or bumping into trees!

I could leap around the bushes quite unfettered at my ease.

My headlights would light up the scene,

My way ahead and where I'd been,

And all the spaces in between!

So give them to me! Please!

*

Change of Heart.

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/2011/02

CHANGE OF HEART!

We said we'd meet beneath the clock!

(But my desire was fleeting!)

So now I lurk behind the blinds,

Avoiding an awful meeting!

*

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FRISKY FANTASY

Oh the delight of frisky weather,

Rain and sunshine both together.

Clouds that scud and winds that skitter,

Sometimes warm and sometimes bitter!

Shades of green that flash and flow,

Dark, then light, then off they go!

Shadows going separate ways

Joined then parted as we gaze.

Hair that flies in all directions!

Fields divided in patchwork sections.

Little flurries of misty rain.

They dampen, then they're gone again!

Trees that widdershin and creak.

Words that fly before we speak!

Laughter as we brave the breeze.

How I loved days such as these.

England is a place of treasures;

Quirky little gems and pleasures.

One of them is frisky weather.

Rain and sunshine both together.

*

Personal Hygiene!

MICROFICTION

http://www.stonyriver.ie/2011/01/microfiction
A story in very few words

PERSONAL HYGIENE!

The girls will like you a great deal more

Without that damned B.O.!

Come on, Matie, dive in and wash!

 Froth-up in the undertow!

*

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RED, WHITE, AND BLUE!

I was strolling along in town one day when this Junk Shop caught my eye.

Now I was only idling, dreaming as I passed by.

I was thinking of writing a poem about Red, White and Blue;

( When a Meme suggests it, that is what must I do.)

'I must avoid the Union Jack!' was going through my mind

Followed by 'What alternative am I possibly going to find?'

Being a Brit, 'Red, White and Blue' had me standing to attention,

But then it seemed too obvious to even rate a mention.

When suddenly a window seemed to flash across my gaze!

And it filled the said criteria in really perfect ways!

Now, when the owner made a plan to change her window theme,

What made her think of this decor, this blended colour-scheme?

And what made me walk down that street? It's not my usual route!

And what made me glance at her window, so crammed with pre-loved loot?

I'm really not superstitious! I prefer reality.

But this was a great example of SERENDIPITY!

*

Push-Over!

MICROFICTION

PUSH-OVER!

I saw you push her in the drink!

So quick I didn't have time to blink!

No! It was you! I'm glad you came!

Now someone else can take the blame!

*

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Seen in a Charity Shop

LABELLED 'LEMON'

Bric-a-brac and throw-aways no-one ever mentions,

No longer feel too sorry for themselves.

For they've been set-out tastefully, with artistic intentions,

Ready to grace other peoples' shelves.

All this lemon loveliness, seemingly respected,

Laid out on a table with good grace.

And even their own table-top hasn't been neglected!

See a cloth of decorative lace!

They thought they were discarded, to be thrown out in the bin,

Labelled with that awful 'second-hand',

But now they are co-ordinated, once more they can win!

For the second time in life they're feeling grand!
*

Para Normal!

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/
The place to find VERY short stories!

PARA NORMAL!

I'm effeminate, it's true!

But see what a parasol can do!

You call me a sissy but I win through

By stabbing my parasol at you!

*

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YELLOW PERIL!

It's odd how people differ in their passions and desires!

It's strange how quite a humdrum thing can light a person's fires!

To me this is 'a yellow car', and ,really, quite a bore!
But Malcolm saw this recently and to him it means much more.,

And, since then, he's been sort of vague, with a look of desperation!

The need to own a 'Spitfire' enters every conversation!

I say 'It's just a car.' but he has quite a different view.

Supposing he goes and buys it! Whatever will I do?

I'll have to do some drooling and pretend that I can see

Something more than a vehicle that goes from A to B!

Now Poetry's a different thing, quite worthy of obsession

It's obvious I'm quite normal when I have a writing session!

But cars! My goodness! They're just things that happen to have wheels!

I'm afraid I'll never really know exactly how he feels!

*

 

Incredible Edible!

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/
A story in very few words!

INCREDIBLE EDIBLE!

Can't you see! I'm a hungry moth!

Can't you see! I'm full of wrath!

I don't want you!

Just your coat of blue!

It's made of very edible cloth!

*
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VERY SMALL MICE!

('The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse')

Town Mouse? Sophisticated.

Country Mouse? Addle-pated!

T.M. tries a rural retreat;

Finds the city's hard to beat.

C.M. takes a trip to town;

Finds the traffic gets him down.

Moral? Stick with what you've got.

Be happy in your chosen spot.

And if you want the story longer

You'll have to make the plot much stronger!

*

 

Oils Aint Oils

MICROFICTION

http://www.stonyriver.ie/
gave us the prompt

OILS AIN'T OILS

Ha ha! Gotcha! You see, last time

I just sold you oily slime!

You paid through the nose, you stupid hick!

I may be greasy but I'm pretty slick!

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                           Escher

DEFT!

I have a problem with these hands; 

They're drawn with the deftest touch.

But the manner of the artistry

Worries me very much!

Did the artist have a model?

I think he did without;

The nearness and the intimacy

Put someone else in doubt.

No, the hands belong to Escher,

I'm absolutely sure.

The proximity is definite.

See each wrinkle, vein and pore!

So, if these hands are Escher's

We then need to decide

Which was the artist's leading hand?

 On the left or the other side?

The drawing of the right hand

Is clear and firm and bold, 

But that's not the hand holding the pencil!

The left is the one to hold.

The left hand looks quite awkward!

The pencil-grip is strange!

He wanted to draw with his left hand

But he had to make a change.

So, although the right hand looks so firm,

And the left almost distorted,

I think Escher was a South Paw!

There! I'm glad I've got that sorted!

*

Found Out!

MICROFICTION
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/found-out.html

FOUND OUT!

Fledging Three

Doesn't look like me!

Account for yourself, my lady!

You've failed the test!

 You've fouled the nest!

I find your past is shady!
*
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I trained as a teacher at Brighton Training College, on the South coast of England. Summers were, of course, erratic, but there were days of intense blue heat. At such times we would clamber out of our windows on to the irregularly-shaped roof-tops and sun-bathe leaning up against the lead. This is a poem I wrote sixty years ago when a heat-wave ended as suddenly as it had begun.

DEATH OF A HEATWAVE.

The lead is still warm,

Here, between the sloping salty rooves.

The wall, rough as a cat's tongue,

Is gentle to the back as a newly-vacated bed.

Yet the heat-wave has gone.

It burnt itself out like a too-brilliant match,

And the ash is grey,

The grey of the leaden skies above the lead.

Up from the sea came the mist.

There was a hill and a silver spire.

And now there is only a grey net

In which golden gnats are caught and die.

The sky closed-in upon the sun,

Like the shutter of a dusty camera.

And suddenly it was cold.

Yet the lead is still warm.
*

The Two-Timer!

MICROFICTION

http://www.stonyriver.ie/

A VERY short story!

THE TWO-TIMER!

I'll drop back as we cross the snow!

I really want to walk with Flo!

Gert doesn't know of our affair!

But our marriage is beyond repair!

*

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WHITE ELEPHANT!

It's such a pleasant place to shop, tree-lined, and traffic-free;

Hunter Street Mall which lies between the river and the sea.

There are shady little spots where one can rest ones weary feet,

And restaurants which offer quite delicious things to eat.

It doesn't really look like a White Elephant at all, 

But where are all the shoppers in this quiet little mall?

They've gone off to the suburbs, to the Shopping Centres there,

For shoppers show no loyalty; they just don't seem to care.

They'd rather have the jangly-wrangly atmosphere of centres

Where noise and crowds assault the ears of anyone who enters.

Resuscitation's needed, but who knows where to start?

This corner of our city looks to die of a broken heart.

*

Damned Spot!

MICROFICTION MONDAY

http://www.stonyriver.ie/

supplied the illustration

DAMNED SPOT!

Out, out, damned spot! The murder's done!
No more visits from my boss's son!
Plunging in the knife was lots of fun!
I hope these sheets bleach in the sun!
*
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FLUSHED WITH SUCCESS!

Lake Mulwala. At first it seems

Unreal, like something in our dreams.

Or, maybe, nightmares, for they've died.....

The trees by which the boats must glide.

Those trees so still, so dark, so gaunt,

Almost seem to loom and haunt.

They died by drowning, every one,

And now they face the blazing sun,

Without the benefit of leaves.

Each one a phantom that still grieves;

Grieves for the days that used to be

When each one was a living tree.

*

But evening comes! What transformation!

A victory for re-creation!

The flush of pink lights lake and sky.

The cockatoos come flying by

And perch for safety on each tree.

How restful the long night will be.

No predator can reach them here!

And a thousand other birds appear.

The trees' reflections dance awhile

And a pale moon; rising, seems to smile.

Then we realise we can see

How living a dead tree can be.

*

Assignation.

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/
supplied the illustration

ASSIGNATION!

'Same time? Same place?' said Cuthbert,

'Remember last Halloween?

I'll dance on your grave, you on mine!

You'll be my Dancing Queen!'
*
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GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

'My World' but such a different one

From the one I enjoy today.

A world that has gone forever,

'The Past' in every way.

In this church I was christened,

It is here my father preached;

And only stone's throw over the hill

The 'Dunkirk' boats were beached.

For this was Wartime Britain

And soon came evacuation

Which changed my life for evermore

Beyond all imagination.

When last in Britain I visited

Old haunts, to pay respect,

But 'Holy Trinity' was no more!

Well, what did I expect?

Demolished for high-rises,

That was its destiny,

But at least one person remembers.

It's still part of 'my world' for me.

*

Hat-hazzard!

MICROFICTION MONDAY
http://www.stonyriver.ie/

HAT-HAZZARD!

'Oh Rudolph! Wrong again!

He said 'nose' not 'hat'!

Right colour! Wrong spot!

Santa wants a chat!
*

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NOTOX!

I'm glad there wasn't Botox when my wrinkles all began;
When I still had some ambition to attract a passing man.
When I was forty/fifty lines were just a part of life
And I never heard of anyone submitting to the knife!
I didn't welcome wrinkles, that I must admit
But I simply saw them as my fate and just planned to submit.
All my friends were wrinkling so I didn't care that much
As for my husband I'd always been just his 'dear Old Dutch'!
How many years ago was this 'Race against Time' started?
How long since a lady and her lines were by science parted?
The syllable 'tox' is off-putting! I believe rat-poison's involved!
A rather drastic way of getting facial problems solved!
It isn't where it starts that counts; it's where the process ends.
No-one really wants to be the talking-point of friends!
'Has she? Hasn't she?' ' Bet she has!' the gossip-mongers mutter.
'Is her surgeon a needle-man or is he a drastic cutter?'
Just think, when all the treatments cease and the change reaches completion,
The nose may look as smooth as silk with a little touch of Grecian,
But the upper-lip, which is untouched, may look wrinkled as a prune
And nose and lip may look at odds and not the least in tune.
And, as the years go flying by (and they will, no doubt about it)
Parts of the face will have missed the boat. Botox? They've done without it.
So the final face will be a mask that gives the viewer shocks;
Like pieces from two jigsaws, each from a different box!
They gain some mid-life sex-appeal but then there's this awful catch.....
When they should be aging graceful they're just a sad miss-match!
Hell will have to freeze over before I try this cure,
Although the 'warning signs' are there upon my face, for sure!
Maybe I'm jealous for I know I missed this Eternal Youth,
But I'd rather relax and enjoy old age with my wrinkles.
That's the truth.
*  

Oops!

MICROFICTION
http://www.stonyriver.ie/
A story in 140 characters or less.

OOPS!

They had been playing in the leaves, Suzie and little John.

Suddenly she'd pushed him! Suddenly he was gone!

Rolling down the leafy bank right into the water!

She's off to tell her Mum and Dad they now only have a daughter!

*

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SAFE DISTANCE.

I'm normally afraid to fly.
I think I am about to die.
I listen to the engine sound
And feel too high above the ground.
I don't believe in aeroplanes!
I'd rather stick to cars and trains.
But when, en route to my destination,
I saw this nasty conflagration,
I changed my mind and felt secure,
Above the bush-fire, safe and sure.
I welcomed the power of flight because
I felt much safer where I was!
*

The Prisoner

MICROFICTION

http://www.stonyriver.ie/

THE PRISONER!

To paraphrase....'A delicious feast

To eat beneath the bough!

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine!

But lover, where art thou!

You've thrown me in the dungeon

And I only broke one vow!'

("A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou...." Omar Khayyam.)

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DAWN DAZZLE

When the summer's at its hottest,
When the sun's a cruel beast,
Then we favour early morning,
And the pageant from the east.
Get up early, get the gear on,
Venture out before it's light.
Feel the gentle breeze that's blowing,
Share the remnants of the night.
See the lovely silver pathway
As the sun begins to rise!
Such deceptive gentle glowing!
Such a devil in disguise!
All too soon we feel the burning,
All too soon the sun turns gold.
Home to breakfast and a shower.
The shiny tale of morning's told.
*

Realisation!

MICROFICTION MONDAY

http://www.stonyriver.ie/

Aim: to write a story in 140 characters or less.

REALISATION!

As the train drew in she said 'Oh hell!

I've left my tickets at the hotel!'

This was, for her, the grand finale.

She never ever got to Bali!

*

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WOT'S WATER?

Back-yard science to the fore.

Fun to splash and fun to pour.

Fun to feel and to submerge.

Fun to give-in to the urge

To throw water at your Dad!

Look! He isn't even mad!

This is where we'll learn about

Cup and measure, bowl and spout.

This is where the toys of plastic

Really are a boon fantasic.

Fun to give the flowers a drink,

Fun to see if teddies sink!

Make it bubble! Make it fizz!

Find out just what water IS!

Splishing, sploshing, keeping cool.

What a delightful back-yard school!

*