1925 - Ambush

 

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

casualties phase profit drop folly cold hungry dawn complicit evil stream reckoning

Ambush

"An army marches on its stomach" 

– Napoleon (attr.)

Battalions.  Invaders.

Marching side by side.

Tramping through the night,

Into neighbouring lands,

Bringing a reckoning.

There will be casualties, of course,

How could there not be?

No military operation

Can be without them.

Which only magnifies the folly.

The strategy is to profit 

From the maneuvers—

And so they march, side by side,

Streaming into new territory.

The residents are not complicit,

They are unwilling victims

In an unequal battle.

The invaders are greedy, not evil,

Just hungry for the spoils…

In the cold, crisp light

Of the breaking dawn

The lettuce seedlings

Will be no more.

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Also posted to dVerse Poet's Open Night.

1924 - Open the Other End

 

MLMM Monday Wordle #494
presents the following words for us to work with:

child, protect, solitude, anger, searching, haven, cost, frustration, why, judge, safety, notice

Open the Other End.

“Do not eat the packaging.”

“Stand facing the urinal.”

“Remove child before folding stroller.”

“Do not iron clothes while wearing them.”

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The nanny state smothers us.

In the name of safety

They treat us like children—

To protect us, they say.  Why?

Why do we need such mollycoddling?

Everywhere there are notices

That judge us stupid.  Or worse.

They raise not awareness

But anger and frustration.

At what cost?  What have we lost?

So here I am, searching for a haven,

Searching for not solitude

But a door out of this asylum.

And the sign on the door says:

“This door is alarmed”.

So am I.

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1923 - Sticks and Stones

 

Image by ChatGPT

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

firm vice world wind cares someone worth wound word here seem spiral 

Sticks and Stones

“There is nothing either good or bad, 

but thinking makes it so.”

— William Shakespeare, Hamlet

“Words will never hurt me”,

Or so the saying goes.

It is true enough,

For what it’s worth—

In theory, at least.

But the truth is less kind.

Words can soothe, true,

But too often it is not so.

Words can hurt.

Words can cut.

Words can wound.

It was never just

What someone said,

Firm or flippant

Whether said with care

Or just a throwaway comment.

Words are not just

What they seem to be.

They are what

You make them to be.

Neither virtue nor vice

Are in play here—

The received word 

Can wind you up,

Spiral around

Into a world of pain,

Into long, sleepless nights,

Often to the complete

Amazement

Of the speaker

Who meant

Nothing of the sort.

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1922 - Accommodation 101

 

Image by ChatGPT

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

plumes tufts mosses fantasy fabric filtering threads forest cracks layer ruffle flow

dVerse Poets Open Night

Accommodation 101

Cobwebs.

Dust.  A lot of dust.

Weeds—

In tufts and plumes,

To be honest, a forest.

Moss-covered steps.

Crumbling brickwork.

Peeling paint.

Mildewed and cracked walls.

Tattered, faded, fabric curtains,

Hanging by threads.

Overflowing letterbox.

Layers of rubbish,

Tins, bottles, wrappers, newspapers,

Enough to excite a legion

Of future archeologists,

Built up on the decaying verandah.

A stray cat, unruffled,

Looks through a taped-together window.

Sunlight flows in, filtering 

Through the filthy glass,

Adding the feeling of

A Gothic fantasy

To the premises.

In short—

A typical student house.

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1921 - Twelve Words, Two Eggs

 

MLMM Monday Wordle #493
presents the following words for us to work with:

smug, noise, celebration, assumed, gentle, quiet, reserved, delivered, surprised, guest, one, unkind

Twelve Words, Two Eggs.

He stepped from the quiet 

Of the morning street

Into the noise and bustle

Of the local café.

A celebration? No.

Just the unrestrained 

Chatter of the regular crowd.

“A table for one, please”

He is led down the back,

Passing tables "reserved"

For more organised guests.

He had assumed, as always, 

There would be a table.

But would not have been

Upset or surprised if not.

It was not smugness,

Just a gentle view on life:

What will be, will be.

He orders his usual

And it is duly delivered.

He uncaps his pen,

A fountain pen, blue ink.

It would not be unkind 

To call him ‘old school’—

He enjoys the ritual.

His pen hovers 

Over the blank page…

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