1355 - Echoes of Past Glory

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

This weeks words are:

lock, fades, echo, out, voices, burn, show, friends, time, power, hear, second

Echoes of Past Glory

The windows are cracked, dusty.

"Here's looking at you, kid."

Cobwebs have long taken over.

"After all, tomorrow is another day."

The chains on the doors rusty—

"Elementary, my dear Watson”

The locks and hinges too.

"There's no place like home."

Inside is musty, dusty and old.

"I love the smell of napalm in the morning."

The red velvet curtain faded, tattered.

"All the world's a stage."

Posters from the shows 

Of the glory days, faded, curled.

"You can't handle the truth!"

Voices from past shows echo

Through the circle and stalls,

"Houston, we have a problem." 

Memories from a time long past.

"That’s not a knife… That’s a knife."

But there is no-one there to hear them.

"I see dead people."

Will the powers grant a second life?

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Will friends come out in support?

"To be, or not to be, that is the question."

Does a candle still burn brightly

For this dead relic of the past?

"I'll be back."  

◊

1354 - The Warriors

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

This weeks words are:

hollow clawing bruised broken spell spiralling fog halo bound trace dragon crimson

Poets & Storytellers invite us to use the word "torch".

The Warriors

Bruised but not broken,

Sword drawn, shield raised,

The warriors stand defiant.

The field of battle crimson with blood,

A spell in the battle permits reflection.

It is not for the warriors to pick the fight

They are bound by the hollow dreams

Of distant leaders. Drawn into the spiralling

Fog of ego fuelled aspirations, to conquer

Foreign lands, green and inviting.

Do they feel remorse, a trace of regret,

As they fight for a cause not their own?

These warriors deal in a clawing, ugly world,

They give full loyalty to the dragon,

No harps and haloes await them.

◊

1353 - Nobis solis culpa est

 

Image by ChatGPT

It initially refused to provided one as it 'didn't comply with content policy.'

The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

This weeks words are a pretty bleak lot: 

past, climate, water, trudge, sludge, sodden, despite, despot, rise, demise, few, inner

"Nobis solis culpa est."

(The fault is ours alone.)

They trudge,

Trudge through sodden fields,

Trudge through sludge filled ditches,

Searching for water, food, shelter.

Anything really.  They trudge because they must.

Children, crying, cling to their mothers.

The men carry the load, the inner one as well.

There is a permanent climate of fear,

There are predators, man and beast, in the shadows.

A rag-tag, rag covered, rag and bone army

Through bleak, grey ruins, they trudge on. 

The demise of their past dreams, past lands,

The wretched, stinking skeletons of a despot’s ego.

Few challenged his rise, most praised it,

Despite the obvious warning signs

They cheered his rise, ignored his words.

Where are they now? Vanished. Silent.

Do they regret? Do they too trudge?  

Probably.

◊

The title is a riff off "Non Nobis, Domine" 

Where god is give credit for glorious victories.

1352 - Smoke and Mirrors

 

The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

This weeks words are: 

touch, hum, flash, faint, gather, staff, tricks, head, snap, bits, cast, shadows 

Smoke and Mirrors

Act I.

Good Evening 

Ladies and gentlemen,

Boys and girls!

I have great pleasure in introducing

The Amazing Lorenzo!

A flash of light, a puff of smoke,

And a very dapper gentleman

With red satin lined cape 

Silk top hat on his head,

Magic staff in his hand,

Steps from the hazy shadows 

And bows to the audience

Gathered in the room before him.

The children are mesmerised

By his every unbelieveable trick—

Things vanish with a snap of his fingers.

The hum of the saw and the scream

Of his beautiful assistant, who faints

Halfway through being sawn in half,

Only to reappear, apparenty untouched.

Cards are cast into his hat

Only to reappear as bits of colourful silk.

And then, with a puff of smoke

He is gone, as mysteriously as he arrived.

Just the faint smell of gunpowder lingers.

Announcer

That was the Amazing Lorenzo!

Give him a round of applause.

Act II

Good Evening 

Ladies and gentlemen,

Residents of Utopia!

I have great pleasure in introducing

Lawrence Greaseball!

The next Member for Utopia!

Flashing lights, a loud drum roll,

The slick car-salesman type,

With his smile on high beam

A logo on the cap on his head,

And assistants and staff at hand,

Steps from the stage shadows 

Arms wide to the crowd

Gathered in the room before him.

The faithful cheer and clap

The cynics are alert for his tricks

Deficits vanish with a snap of his fingers.

The quarter acre block is no longer a dream

If he is elected as their local member.

Taxes will be cast aside. For some.

Jobs will not be touched, well just a bit.

In the land of milk and honey,

Life will hum along for everyone.

Thank you.  I love you all.

Cast your votes for me and all will be fine.

Then he is gone, as mysteriously as he arrived.

Just the faint smell of aftershave lingers.

Announcer

That was Lawrence Greaseball!

Give him a round of applause.

◊