Scribblings by Sarah


My two dogs Archie and Bella, though not related, have an uncanny synchronicity.

Synchronised staring

Synchronised sleeping

Synchronised couch topping

Synchronised seeking

Synchronised moping (probably because of those jackets. What was I thinking?!)

Synchronised snacking.



Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: synchronise,  snack

Scribblings by Sarah

Blogger Recognition Award

Blogger Recognition Award

I’m thrilled to accept this blogger recognition award (especially since it is my very first award)

Thank you, to my blogger friend, Elsie Hagley – Ramblings of a Writer, for nominating me for this award. I really enjoy participating in her weekly Tanka challenges, and she has an interesting site with a wide range of posts from Tanka, cooking, short stories and more. I always look forward to seeing her work in my WordPress Reader!

How did my blog start?
I started this blog in late April 2017. I previously had a different blog that helped me through a difficult time in my life, a few years ago. I have since ‘retired’ that one and By Sarah explores my more creative side. I absolutely LOVE writing – always have, always will 😃

My advice for new bloggers is:
1. Write what you know. Capturing a small moment in time can sometimes produce the best piece of writing! Also, go with the flow….literally. Don’t overthink your posts or prompts. Go with it and see where it leads.
2. Find like minded people. Better to have fewer followers and likes, from those who ‘get’ and appreciate your efforts! Quality not quantity as they say.

I would like to nominate:

Bushboy’s World – an amazing photographer. Stunning flora and fauna and other fascinating subjects as well as quirky anecdotes. Someone I have enjoyed getting to know in the WordPress world.

Life on the Skinny Branches – besides my absolute love of this site’s name, Margaret is a beautiful writer and I have connected with many of her pieces, on frequent occasions. Always an interesting read.

There is never any obligation with my nominations, just sharing great and new blogs with my readers.

If you’re unable to participate for any reason, please accept this as a gesture of my appreciation.

Here are the rules:
1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
2. Write a post to show your award.
3. Give a brief story how your blog started.
4. Give two pieces of advice to new bloggers.
5. Select (up to 15) other bloggers for this award.
6. Comment on each blog to let them know you nominated them and provide a link to to the post you created.

Stories by Sarah

The Sleepover

Image credit Daniel Von Appen on Unsplash

It was the night of the Grade 2 Sleepover at the school and the teachers had been instructed to push all the classroom furniture aside.

As the first parents and students arrived, the principal soon realised her mistake.

The teachers had pushed the furniture aside alright – but she had forgotten to remind them it was to let the kids in, not keep them out!


By Sarah ©2017

Author’s note:  I am literally at a Grade Two Sleepover now…please go to sleep little ones! 

Prompt: Three Line Tales, Week 74

Daily Post Weekly Challenge, Photos by Sarah

McKenzie Falls

The falls in the upper section (pictured above) form a triangle shape  (delta 🔺) and depict constant change as the water rushes and flows, spilling down to the next level.

Even in the lower section, the pool is not the end of the line. The water continues on, escaping out a narrow mouth down the river.

Continually changing; moving water.

Image credits By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge, Word: delta

Stories by Sarah

Mulch Ado About Nothing

Image credit Bikurgurl

The sign declared “Open”, however these days, there was little point. For years they had been getting squeezed out of the marina by the sleek and shiny yachts. In fact, the recent addition of the latest jetty had literally boxed them in. The manager sighed and decided to take action. He grabbed a piece of chalk, crossing out the “B”. He ordered his men to start up the wood chipper and load the boats in one by one. At least the “Centre for Wooden Oats” may sustain them for a few more weeks. People always needed mulch for their gardens.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt – Fact; and also, Bikurgurl, 100 Word Wednesday – Week 25, Word count: 100

Photos by Sarah, Tuesday Photo Challenge

Stepping Off

Nothing like the abandon of stepping off the Bunji ledge! Though only a 48m drop, this was undoubtably one of the most exhilarating, terrifying and rejuvenating experiences of my life. This is the AJ Hacket Bunji, Kawarau Bridge, near Queenstown New Zealand…and yes, that’s me.

Prompt: Dutch Goes The Photo, Tuesday Photo Challenge – #36 Steps

Photos by Sarah, Tuesday Photo Challenge

A Stepping Stone Gathers Moss

Hilo, on the Big Island of Hawaii, has to be one of the wettest places I have ever visited – five out five days, we experienced torrential rain! On the flip side, this means the scenery and vegetation is lush and green. Everywhere you look it’s like nature is trying to reclaim its territory. These were the steps leading up to the back of our accommodation. Now coated in moss, these are actually stone pavers.

Image credit By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Dutch Goes The Photo, Tuesday Photo Challenge – Steps

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

In Between

Image credit Natalia Fadejeva

She was of this world, yet not.
Lying somewhere in the in-between.

The call of the birds in the sky,
the rustle of crimson leaves,
and sensual smell of the soil,

Not enough to draw her back to earth.

Silken water, caressing milky skin,
the perfume of floating petals,
with promise of peace in the darkness,

Not enough to take her under.

Family murmur their  words
to coax her back to consciousness.

But she is trapped in her box.

She’s not the first person to be buried alive in her body.
She won’t be the last.


By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge #171; and also, Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: bury, soil

Haiku / Senryu, Poetry by Sarah

Ember Attack

flames rage the war while
embers do reconnaissance 
for the next attack.

By Sarah ©2017

Author’s Note: An ember attack is a naturally occurring event. During a bushfire, burning parts of trees such as twigs, branches or leaves become temporarily airborne and can be carried away upwind of the bushfire. An ’ember attack’ occurs when many embers are carried by winds in a cluster

Image credit emberarresta

Prompt: Ronovan Writes, Weekly Haiku, Poetry Pronpt Challenge #155 Ember & Flame

Stories by Sarah

 Just Desserts 

I stared at the single gladiola adorning the table of the restaurant. The wilted petals belied their brightly coloured hues. I felt sympathy, as I had a sense I looked somewhat the same. My makeup, applied 10 hours ago, still held its colour but had that smudged, worn look. As did my clothing. I noticed with a grimace, I had a small red stain on my shirt. How long had that been there? Boy, what a day! I needed this. I told myself.

I sat up in my chair, straightening my posture, so as to attract the attention of the slovenly wait staff, who seem more interested in socialising than serving. No doubt sharing some galimatias^ they would gossip about at the end of their shift.

I shook my hand in the air, waving and trying to meet the tall, willowy one’s eye. With visible sufferance, she finally wandered over.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked, with all the radiance of a spent light globe.

Ignoring her attitude, I placed my order, “Yes please I’ll just have dessert – the chocolate brownie, lemon meringue pie and the Italian donuts. Oh, and a coffee too. Thanks.”

Her eyes widened. She seemed on the verge of saying something, however immured* her thoughts, instead turning to take the order to the kitchen.

I watched the chef through the cut-out in the wall. I did like these open-style, industrial-type kitchens. You could see what was happening and make sure no untoward hygiene practices were taking place. I looked on with satisfaction, as he took the knife and cut a huge wedge of the pie. The peaks of meringue were like waves atop the glorious yellow tart. He placed it on a plate and commenced piping double whipped cream around its base. It was like a mountain from heaven.

Next was the chocolate brownie. He pulled it straight out of the oven and mesmerised, I observed him slide the slightly oozing chocolate block onto a separate plate. He gripped a traditional ice cream scoop and dished up three lashings of vanilla bean ice cream on the side. I was starting to drool.

Out of the deep fryer, I watched him whisk out three tiny, doughy balls. He rolled them in cinnamon, drizzled caramel sauce and nuts over the top, garnishing the donuts with a single strawberry.

He dinged on the bell and the waitress returned, balancing the three small dishes on her arms. She sat them down in front of me.

The saliva in my mouth was viscous and ready to receive.

I could not wait for the cloudburst of euphoria that would accompany each bite, wiping the misery of today into the hereafter.

Then I realised.

I’d forgotten my insulin.

By Sarah ©2017

* immure (verb.) to enclose within walls. to shut in; seclude or confine. to imprison. to build into or entomb in a wall.

^Galimatias (noun.) A secret that must be kept on pain of death.

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #161. Words used: insulin, posture, shake, suffer, cloudburst, immure*, hereafter, slovenly, radiate, gladiola, restaurant, galimatias^; and also, Daily Post Daily Prompt, interest, sympathy, traditional.


Stories by Sarah

The Minutiae of Stars

She pushed the plate of food in my direction.

“Here’s your dinner,” she informed me, gruffly.

I sniffed at it surreptitiously and it was just as I’d suspected. Lamb casserole again. I shuddered inwardly. Oh no, what had I done to deserve this? I thought.

Through clenched teeth, I gave her a thankful smile; looked at her appreciatively and took a bite.

Blergh! And it was cold too! I continued to smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice my displeasure. She was clearly in a mood and I certainly didn’t want to make it worse.

Without waiting for further interaction, she stomped out of the room, leaving me to finish my meal in forced solitude. I wondered sadly, When was the last time we had eaten together? I racked my brain, but could not recall.

I finished my meal and padded gingerly into the lounge room, trying to gauge her demeanour. She had changed out of her work clothes and into her favourite track pants and a sweater that was more holes than clothing. I hated it when she wore that sweater. After all, it belonged to him – one final keepsake of a relationship she just couldn’t seem to part with. She was watching TV, totally absorbed in some inane reality show and oblivious to my presence.

I hesitated; watching her for just a moment before I entered her space. Her sweet smelling, ash-blonde hair was curled softly around her face. She hadn’t straightened it today. Her mouth, usually relaxed and smiling, was drawn and showed a rigidness that belied her casual appearance. Her light blue eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, as if she knew a secret, were dull and cloudy.

However, none of this did anything to diminish her. She was beautiful, and I knew I loved her far more than she could ever love me.

I tentatively approached and nestled in beside her on the couch. I rested my head against her warm body. I sat with her, saying nothing, waiting for her to engage. She squirmed and pushed me away. Sighing, I decided to go to bed.

* * * * *

The next morning was not much better. She was up early, well before me. Looking at her hopefully, I held up the dog lead, suggesting a walk. But she just shook her head and said, “Not today.”

I ate my breakfast and followed her outside to where she was hanging out some clothes, attempting again, to draw her out of herself. It was a stunning day – a blue, cloudless sky; the autumn leaves crimson and gold; falling slowly like burnt snow to the ground. I could smell winter in the air. I turned to see if she was enjoying the sunshine too when I noticed she had gone back inside.

As I tried to re-enter the house, I discovered I had been locked out. Accidentally, I hoped.

“Amanda? Amanda!!” I barked angrily, banging on the glass sliding door. I put my ear to the door and heard water running. She must be in the shower. Great.

It was a full 25 minutes before her damp figure, wrapped in a towel, appeared at the door.

I was so furious I couldn’t even look at her as I loped crankily past her and into the lounge room.

“Sorry! I didn’t realise you were out there!” she explained.

What, so I was invisible now too! I steamed.

Sensing her apology was inadequate, she tried again.

“I apologise for being so distracted lately. I know I haven’t been paying you the attention you deserve.”

Well, I thought smugly, this was more like it! 

Still refusing to make eye contact with her, she continued.

“I’m so sorry, come here!” she said, bundling me up and wrapping me in her arms.

Aw shucks! I couldn’t be mad at her now!

“You’re always there for me Sammy! You’re my super star. You’re the only boy I need. Such a good boy. Good boy!” she cooed, scratching me behind my ears, just where I liked it.

She was back!

I smiled and licked her face wildly, as she laughed and laughed.

To you, my life may be no more than minutiae, but to me, it is my world.

She is my world.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Writing Prompt #213 “It’s All In The Title”, Saturday’s Mix – 22 July 2017; and also, Daily Post Daily Prompt: invisibleTentativeCasual

Haiku / Senryu, Poetry by Sarah

The Lot

Image credit TJ Paris

my love loves flowers.
nothing brings her so much joy
as their sweet perfume

a lippy tulip,
roses of red, pink, yellow,
purple hued violets,

sunny gerberas,
delicate gypsophila,
perfect proteas,

cheeky daffodils,
full rainbows of carnations,
sassy snapdragons,

queenly hydrangas,
a daisy just makes her day.
to market I went

to buy her bouquet.
I just couldn’t decide so
I bought the whole lot!

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: TJ’s Household Haiku, Words: perfume, joy

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Stop A While

Image credit Eden Hills

My wings stretched out
I soar the open skies
The wind beneath my feathers
And carrying my cries

I squawk to my friend
Signalling stop for a while
I land upon a fence line
And listen with a smile

I hear the breeze rustling
The long grass at my side
The crickets they are chirruping
I hear them far and wide

The metal on the fence post
Makes a lightly scratching sound
Faintly echoes the howl
Of some far off mournful hound

Beside me runs a river
Though slow, the water flows
There’s the sensual slosh of liquid
As over the rocks it goes

Out of the corner of my eye
I see a snake slither and hiss
Time to go, lest he makes me his meal
I take off; blow a farewell kiss

Beep beep beep beep
I awake in confusion
It’s just my alarm clock
Shattering the illusion

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday’s Mix – 24 June 2017, and also, Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: illusion 

Stories by Sarah

Bright Side

Photo by Christian Widell via Unsplash

He hung his head in shame, feeling disappointed he had missed the winning goal – all due to the sun shining in his eyes as he’d made the deciding penalty kick.

The other players had left the field; the winning team whooping and cheering; his teammates tutting and casting him dirty looks.

As he stood alone, the same offending sunlight caught the shine of a $2 coin on the grass near his feet, and he thought to himself, At least I’ve had one win today.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Three Line Tales, Week 73

Daily Post Weekly Challenge


Story: Uncle Freddie Dowling, Artist: Anderson Hunt

This is a sculpture along the Bullawah Cultural Trail telling the creation story of the platypus. Platypus (Mullinmurr) was born of mismatched love of Widjul (black duck) and Nunjarri (water rat), who were forced into a nomadic life due to their union. The Mullinmurr story explores the playful side of relationships and the dangers of forbidden love.

You can watch the story and learn more by watching this video:

Prompt: Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge, Word: transient

Stories by Sarah

Second Opinion

Image credit Geran de Klerk via Unsplash

The doctor looked through the microscope. Shook his head and checked again. He couldn’t be sure but…it really did seem like it was true.

I’d better get a second opinion, he thought.

“Hey Charles, come over here and tell me what you think” he said to his colleague, who was busy working on a rather nasty looking Petri dish.

Charles put his eye hard up against the looking glass and gave a startled cry, confirming what he’d thought. The girl had sunk so deeply into her depression, she’d become an island.

Now, how to connect her back to the mainland…

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Bikurgurl, 100 Word Wednesday – Week 24, Word count: 100

Poetry by Sarah, Tanka

Mona Vale

Image credit By Sarah ©2017.                 Mona Vale, Christchurch, NZ

since his death she spent
the days strolling archways of
their favourite park
never realising he was
walking peacefully with her

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Ramblings of a Writer, Weekly Tanka Prompt Challenge – Week 50, Words: park & peace

Haibun, Poetry by Sarah

Summer Solstice 

fertile religion
honouring the pagan gods
in lengths of sunshine

Cast a circle; consecrate your space; call the quarters. Prepare your wooden pyre and watch it burn. Honour the earth as the Ancients did – surrounded by trees, connecting feet with dirt and raising hands to the wind, as one. It is time for celebrating, for today is Litha; Alban Heruin; Midsummer; known by all your names. Tomorrow, the light will fade into the dark, rich soil, in which life began and will return, when your fire burns out.

the wheel of the year
has turned once more
turning ever on

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefueille, Summer Solstice Haibun, 100 words, and also, Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: circlewheel, soil 

Author’s Note: Acknowledgements to ThoughtCo for their information on How To Hold a Midsummer Night’s Fire Ritual.