Scribblings by Sarah

The Quiet One

Don’t do that! Don’t say that! Don’t be like that! Her critical voice slices through me, and I shrink away. I just want to be heard. But she won’t let me.

She is hard.
She is tough.
She is unbreakable.

Or so she would have you believe.

Why the bravado? I timidly wonder; never daring to enquire.

Instead, I give her a peevish look, my eyes boring into her, silently willing…trying… to impress upon her, how she is causing me to decay.

Not that she’d care.

She wants me silent.
She wants me quashed.
She wants me to just
Go.
Away.

Is it because I remind her
that sometimes, words aren’t necessary.
A presence is enough.
A muted stare.

But you can’t ignore a subconscious forever.
One day, I will loom large,
and take back control.
Until then.
I wait.
I stay hushed.

That’s me, the quiet one.

For now…

By Sarah ©2021

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, July 18

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Tarot

I laid out the cards
in a familiar spread
Holding my breath
To see what they said.

Worn at the edges
From overuse
Am I reading them properly?
What can I deduce?

If I’m being honest
About what I see.
The message I hope for
Is not meant to be.

Relationships that break,
Seldom mend
I must face facts.
We have to end.

This hope must die between
midnight and noon.
Get on with my life,
Leave the mess I’ve strewn.

I won’t sit back now,
I will not wait.
Trust in the Tarot but
Pave your own fate.

By Sarah ©️2020

Tarot

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Opposing Forces, 15 February 2020; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt “Tarot Reading”

Other, Poetry by Sarah

An Ugly Truth

An ugly truth it seems to be,
My harshest critic is but me.
Through cruelest lens I always see,
A captive’s plea. A captive’s plea.

“You’re fat, you’re foolish and you’re dumb,
Don’t dare to dream – they’ll never come.”
Her waspish voice begins to drum,
A constant hum. A constant hum.

Thoughts spiral quickly, filled with mirth.
Giving them air, just spreads their girth,
’til soon I feel of little worth –
An endless dearth, an endless dearth.

Pessimism grows; soon takes hold,
Wraps me in arms of bitter cold.
I am fearful – can’t break this mold.
Happiness sold. Happiness sold.

An ugly truth it seems to be,
My harshest critic is but me.
Through cruelest lens I always see.
Please set me free. Please set me free.

By Sarah ©2019

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 5 October 2019 and also; Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt “Ugly Words”

Monotetra structure:
Line 1: 8 syllables; A1
Line 2: 8 syllables; A2
Line 3: 8 syllables; A3
Line 4: 4 syllables, repeated; A4, A4

Scribblings by Sarah

Suddenly In Love

It was The First Day Mr. and Mrs. Deadtree had met The Girl with the Cast Iron Smile.

They were to be Invisible Roommates in the The Otherside of Nothing which was an altogether Hollow Entreaty. For these were Dark Days: a Biography of Self-Professed Cynics.

Until, A Distant Hum began and Light was Interrupted. Mysteriously, they now found themselves to be, Suddenly in Love.

By Sarah ©2019

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt – It’s All In The Title

Scribblings by Sarah

A Ghost Story

I am a primary school teacher and in 2005, had a haunted classroom. I was teaching on the Mornington Peninsula in Victoria in a high growth school. I volunteered to go into a ‘portable’ (temporary mod style building) double classroom as we had run out of building space. I was excited to be team teaching with a colleague however from the get-go, the classroom had a “not-quite-right” feel to it.

We had unexplained electrical issues where we could smell a hot electrical burning smell, however, upon numerous visits from the electrician, there was found to be no problems. 

At times, we could not open the doors – the locks jammed up. However when a locksmith changed to new locks, this problem continued.

One morning, my colleague and I entered the classroom to find the dress ups strewn from one end of the classroom to the other. No one else had keys aside from us and the cleaners – who were as surprised as we were by the mess. I hated being alone in that room and always felt like I was being watched.

In the middle of a lesson all of us present, kids included, were overwhelmed by the scent of lilies (which I later found out to be the flowers of the dead). One of the children even asked, ‘Where’s that perfume coming from?’ and as quick as it engulfed us, the smell was gone again. 

Possibly unrelated, but my two class pet goldfish both died overnight, even though they had been fine the day before.

Although we felt foolish, both myself and the other teacher spoke to our principal about these incidents and she dismissed them.  Until one night, she came into the classroom to speak to me and kept looking over her shoulder. She asked, ‘Did you hear that?’ and when I said, ‘No’, looked very scared and left soon after. 

I didn’t think too much more of this until I visited a psychic at a show as a bit of fun. We hadn’t gotten very far into the reading when the psychic stated, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with anything else until we talk about your work situation. You are being haunted by a troubled spirit.’

I was gobsmacked as I hadn’t mentioned a thing about the classroom. The lady told me that the classroom had come from a storage yard where many homeless people used the buildings for shelter. She explained that a young girl had committed suicide in my classroom. She gave me a cleansing spell and asked me to burn a black candle and white sage to move her spirit on. 

Again, I felt foolish however, I did what was suggested. From that point on, we had no further issues.

I have recounted this story many times and still get chills when I describe what happened. I know that room was haunted but feel glad I was able to help whatever it was, move on.

By Sarah ©2019

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt – Campfire Ghost Stories

Stories by Sarah

Pandemonium

I had listened to his laboured breathing, through the night and ‘til his spirit left this earth. I could hardly bear it, knowing, with a dull ache, that my final act was coming soon too.

For years, the writing had been on the wall, but noone had listened. The viruses had prospered, and all the antibiotics had run out.

Digging sacred graves, for my husband and me; I coughed into the air, knowing I was the scourge, and pandemonium would follow…

By Sarah ©2018

The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 355 and Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #58 – Pandemonium

Stories by Sarah

The Chase

He was in with half a chance of solving this grisly murder. He just knew it!

Detective Bailey had been tailing the suspect for a few days now, and every sense was tingling; telling him he was close.

He sipped a mouthful of yet another bad coffee, and grimaced. He hated the stake outs the most. If not, just for the coffee!

He drew the binoculars up to his eyes and trained them on the small, darkened window. Still nothing.

Relaxed, he leaned back in his car seat and turned on the radio. He whirled the dial until the radio squeal found his favourite golden oldies channel. Queen’s “Bicycle Race” song was playing.

He smiled and began singing along, “Bicycle! Bicycle! I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike…”

Suddenly, there was a blast. The windscreen of the car erupted in a shower of glittering shards and Detective Bailey felt another vehicle slam into the passenger side of his vehicle.

Reaching for his gun with one hand, and bracing himself with the other, he looked up and into the eyes of his suspect; staring at him from the wheel of the other car.

And then he ran for it.

Pawing at the door, Detective Bailey opened it and spilled out into the street. He half-crawled, half-sprung to his feet and gave chase.

He saw the darkened, form ahead make a sudden dash down an alley that Bailey hadn’t even known was there.

The detective’s size eleven shoes echoed clunkily on the road. If the suspect didn’t know he was after him, he did now!

The alley was dark and Detective Bailey scanned the various dumpsters and other unmentionable alley paraphernalia, for his man. He heard the clinking of a chain link fence, as it settled back into its resting position. It had obviously been recently scaled.

“Dammit!” he swore loudly.

He had lost the suspect…

Just then, a shrill and commanding voice, pierced my conscience. “Excuse me ma’am. You can either borrow that or put it back on the shelf, but please stop narrating the book out loud! You’re disturbing the other patrons!”

I closed the book, smiled sheepishly, and slunk out of the library…

By Sarah ©2018

Time To Write: Set The Scene 9 and The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 354

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Balance

When we grow flowers,
we make a choice.
Instead you plant weeds,
by raising your voice.

Polish your silverware,
but not your good grace.
Check your surroundings,
but not your own face.

Your thunder and lightning
impose with their show.
But kindness and love
are the riches I know.

So I keep the balance.
Embrace your rain.
There cannot be pleasure
without the pain.

By Sarah ©2018

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt – Collage Prompt #41

Scribblings by Sarah

Break Ups – Top 25 “What Not To Do”

The list below is compiled on things I have done myself, or seen my friends and family do, after a break up (I know! CRINGE, right?!).

The list is by no means conclusive but rather, outlines things that may:

  • make you feel better in the short term, but really, just make you stoop to a whole new level that’s beneath you
  • make you feel FAR worse
  • diminish your already wounded self-esteem, and
  • prolong the process of accepting the break up and moving on.

What NOT to do:

  1. Egg their car
  2. Egg their house
  3. Deny no. 1 & 2 when called on it
  4. Create a “Dial a Loser” poster with their photo and phone number on it and put it up in key places around their town
  5. Write a revenge/hate song and play it to all their friends
  6. Beg for them to take you back
  7. Damage their property
  8. Harass them at their place of work
  9. Steal their things
  10. Defame them
  11. Log onto their Facebook account and delete all their friends
  12. Log onto their Facebook account and post embarrassing status updates
  13. Sign them up for embarrassing email spam (e.g penis enlargement, Viagra)
  14. Sleep with their best friend
  15. Sleep with their brother / sister
  16. Stalk them
  17. Stalk their new partner
  18. Try to “accidentally” run into them around your old hangouts
  19. Lose weight or reinvent yourself to try and get them back
  20. Call and/or text them
  21. Hold onto hope they realise they’ve made a mistake
  22. Stay friends with mutual friends
  23. Keep them on your Facebook / Instagram / Twitter
  24. Stay “friends”
  25. Anything that causes you lose your dignity and/or power

What you SHOULD do:
Remember, it’s called a break up, because it was broken. Count your losses, cut all ties and communication, and walk away.

Moving on and finding happiness is the best way to truly get over a break up…

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt – Breakups

Scribblings by Sarah

A Very Auspicious Accident

Unwittingly, My Incessant Valentine was instrumental in The Unmaking of a Dream. At his insistence, I wore My Grandmother’s Wedding Dress which was embroidered with The Last Rose of Babylon. This, unbeknownst to me, was also Sealed with a Curse from The Eidolon and the Wardrobe.

And so it became The Day the Willows Shrieked. They shrieked unrelentingly until “The Underground Flamingo” (the band who played our wedding) began the opening lines of their song, Compassion: Gift of the Suffering Heart. Magically, the spell was broken. A Very Auspicious Accident indeed…

By Sarah ©2018

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt – It’s All In The Title, 1 April 2018

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

The Big Picture

Filled with guilt, I left him.
Making footprints in the sand alone.
No more could I tolerate the silence.
Nor our house, no more a home.

I imagine how life would be,
if with him I did stay.
Would things have remained stormy?
Or would we have found our way?

“Using our very best manners
In each day we’d star,
Exchanging kind words and gifts
With no harsh words to mar.”

But writing a different draft,
doesn’t change the final outcome.
I’d still charge myself with fraud
For staying ’til I was numb.

That marriage was such small fry,
In the big scheme of things today.
Even if I was re-wired,
I wouldn’t have done it any other way…

By Sarah ©2018

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt – “The Butterfly Effect“; and also, The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #342

Stories by Sarah

Viscosity

Honey-tinted sunshine filtered through branches. The forest was thick with the crescendo of bird-song. If gravity hadn’t been holding me down, I could’ve floated away to the blue skies above.

It was a perfect day for a walk.

I continued along the boardwalk snaking its way through the dense woodland. It was an advertisement for safe passage, as ferns and scrub scratched at its edges.

My eyes were drawn to leaf litter peppering the path and it was then, that I saw blood. My senses immediately became electrified and the peace around me shattered.

The red droplets smattered here and there, dotting their way along the planks. Every instinct was telling me “Run!” but curiosity urged me on. I justified to myself that if someone was injured, maybe I could help.

I rounded a corner and there, I saw a pool of crimson so thick, it was impossible to believe anything living could’ve gone on.

Teeth bared, the beast was upon me so quickly, I slipped in viscous liquid, becoming one with he who’d fallen before me.

My breath rattled in my chest, as I exhaled my last, and I thought, It had been a perfect day for a walk.

By Sarah ©2018

Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt – forestBranch; and also, The Sunday Whirl – Wordle 340; and also, Sunday Photo Fiction – February 25th, 2018

Scribblings by Sarah

The Gift

It was A Night Without Dreams, The Day the Stars Burned. The Fairy Queen wasn’t sure if it was Sleep Deprivation, or if A Girl Called Gift truly was a Revenant. Gift appeared through A Disquieting Haze – A Vision in Blue by The Mulberry Bush. She approached The Man Who Talks to Walls and he confirmed that Gift had indeed brought the gift of herself home…

By Sarah ©2018

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Image credit Furgur@Deviant Art

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt #239 – It’s All In The Title

Scribblings by Sarah

Rant

img_3233
Image credit The Butler Soapbox

Yves’ challenge today is to ‘get on your soapbox and have a good rant. Your rant can deal with anything from minor pet peeves to serious societal issues and don’t feel like you need to hold back on my account‘.

I have an issue I would just love to rant about, but I am using my better judgment and refraining. It’s all a little too recent and raw, and I am fearful I will express things that are not appropriate or that I will end up regretting. I know that’s kind of the point of this post, but I’m still in the midst of processing and dealing with a betrayal.

However, I will have a rant about rants. As my husband would readily tell you, I am a bit of a ranter. I can be very black and white – especially when it comes to morals and following the rules. I see injustice, or liars and cheats, and my blood just boils. And….I have to tell everyone all about it! Sometimes, I can feel myself flipping my lid and inside my head I’m saying, ‘Calm down…ease up turbo’ but I just keep going. Like I have verbal diarrhoea!

Anyhow, it is something I am actively working on, by using mindfulness techniques, because I have come to realise that people don’t always share your values, and that expectations vs. reality can differ greatly. I have also come to realise there is a difference between venting and ranting. When I feel myself crossing that line, between a vent and a rant, I am starting to recognise and rein myself in. Blogging helps. I can rant creatively and more obscurely – saying what I need to say without becoming a shrew!

After recently going through the “Hawaii Missile Alert” debacle, it has certainly helped put things into perspective. If something grinds my gears, I am using the mantra, “Oh well, at least it’s not an inbound ballistic missile!”

Sometimes changing the lens through which you view a situation can transform everything…

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, #238 – Rant

Scribblings by Sarah

1983

The Vile Truth was that the Shadows in the Cellar had Frozen Filaments Inescapable, A Mind without Doors. Entering Soul Scathing Darkness, the Wrath of the Dryads was enhanced by A Dose of Fetish so that The Forgotten People met Charred Ends in 1983.

By Sarah ©2017

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Image credit mariyaolshevska

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt #236 – It’s All In The Title

Scribblings by Sarah

Unrelenting Silence

After 7 Years, the Festering Roots of their relationship were Ineffable.Their marriage was A Fairytale with a Very Bad End indeed. As they entered the Cracked Facade of The Scarlet Temple, the couple had An Unavoidable Encounter.

“I’m sick of being your Shadow Puppet!” exclaimed the wife. “I can’t wait to be free of you”.

Your I is an Illusion,” retorted the husband.

And with hearts no longer tied to the other, they went their separate ways. Famished: Into An Unrelenting Silence.

By Sarah ©️2017Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt #234 – It’s All In The Title. Task: Choose one or more of the titles below and fashion a poem or story around it

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Fall

One last assault,
as we run towards the finish line.
I can’t afford to fall.

But
I
do.

As I sail to the ground,
my knees nudging the earth,
I realise I am their puppet.

It’s too deep-seated –
and I have no case for change.
So I find myself a bar instead…

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Sunday Whirl, Wordle 329, Words: run, bar, deep, nudge, last, assault, case, afford, seat, puppet, fall, sail

Stories by Sarah

The Anniversary

It was The Anniversary of the Zombie Apocalypse Take 2, and aside from Missing An Eye, it hadn’t been the House Of Bones they’d been expecting. It was beyond Insatiable Doubt really, that The Old Sawmill had remained virtually untouched. Whispers in the Wall advised them, that All That Lies Broken was The Jagged Piece outside the door. As they finally ventured out into the remains of the world, cheers surrounded them. The Sound of Pride of those who’d survived.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, #232 – It’s All In The Title. Task: Choose one or more of the titles below and fashion a poem or story around it – The Old Sawmill, Insatiable Doubt, The Missing Eye, House of Bones, Zombie Apocalypse Take 2, The Jagged Piece, All That Lies Broken, Whispers in the Wall, The Sound of Pride.
The Anniversary

Other, Poetry by Sarah

Twister

It seemed a simple puzzle
– twist; stand still; and wish,
ambler nor no other would nuzzle.
It seemed a simple puzzle.
A sneaky trim, a stolen tousle.
Stream toward the prize…oh no, we’ve all gone squish!
It seemed a simple puzzle
– twist, stand still and wish.

By Sarah ©2017

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Image credit Wikimedia under the Creative Commons Licence

Prompt: Sunday Whirl, Wordle 327. Words: puzzle, stream, twist, ring, wish, amble, prize, still, simple, stolen, stand, trim

Scribblings by Sarah

The Secret That Changed Everything

It was The Secret that Changed Everything. Jasper and the Magic Teapot stumbled through the Valley of Forgotten Souls and discovered My Inner Feral Child had had A Return to Lucidity, and that The Alter Ego had Got Away with The Cat’s Pajamas!

For the Love of Absurdity,” Jasper cried, his heart rate breaking its usual 60BPM, “couldn’t they just stay in The Uninhabitable Spaces Between Us?”

By Sarah ©2017 

Image credit Prawny via Pixabay

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, #228 – It’s All In The Title. Task: Choose one or more of the titles below and fashion a poem or story around it 

Scribblings by Sarah

What’s In A Name?

The task: These are 10 Book titles. ACTUAL book titles – and your mission is to read the list, stop long enough from your gut splitting laughter, compose yourself, then choose a few from the list and write the “jacket blurb” – in no more than 10 sentences. Choose no more than 3 selections – and write the “explanation” of the content – in no more than 10 well-crafted sentences for each title.


“Living with Crazy Buttocks” by Ima Quivering
Did you know buttock implants are one of the fastest growing and most popular cosmetic surgeries among women? At a cost of $17,000, Ima expected the firm, satisfying appearance known as the ‘bubble butt’. However, what she ended up with was something else, altogether. Delve into the world of wobbles as Ima explores the weird and wild adventures of a derriere gone wrong… and how to survive it!

“The Pyromaniac’s Cookbook” by Major Burns
Welcome to the Pyromaniac’s Cookbook where recycling, reclaiming and reusing, has reached a whole new level. In this, his first cookbook, ex-firefighter Major Burns, talks you through how to use a burning house to your advantage. Why waste the natural, extreme heat offering you a perfect BBQ that could feed the whole neighbourhood? Sample the unusual flavours of smoked memories and blackened furniture to spice up any meat dish! Garnish with ash and charcoal for a tasty twist. Find out more about this renewable new cooking method, that can be used over and over again, as long as it’s not your house.

“Sorry I Ruined Your Orgy” by Patty Flungdung
Patty bravely shares her story – a gripping tale exploring the dark side of sexual experimentation. No longer satisfied with karma sutra, ménage a trois, or S and M; Patty and her group of extreme orgiest friends have turned to more organic props for their erotic adventures – bodily fluids. Not for the faint hearted, Flungdung tackles the fetish known as scatophilia and why it’s misunderstood by so many.

Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt – bubble; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, #226 – What’s In A Name?

Cinquain, Poetry by Sarah

Outside Myself

Being.
Confused; detached.
Watching, hearing, saying,
never understanding; I’m outside
myself.

By Sarah ©2017

Image credit kellepics via Pixabay

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, #225 – Know Thyself

Scribblings by Sarah

Flapdoodle 

I am an Abstract Evil Barbie. So please Stop Calling Me Frank and give me The Pineapples from the Dawn of Time.

Take them to the Bimbo Toolshed and store them with my GoGoPenguins and Loudmouthkitten. Don’t get all Kissyfoot about it or I’ll serve you to the Devil with Cheese!

Now leave me in peace to complete my Reign of Frogs. And close the Squirrel Nut Zippers behind you!

By Sarah ©2017

Image credit Pixabay

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, #224 – Name That Tune
Task: YES – these are real.group.band.names. REAL.Anyhow, there are 10 selections. Pick a few, one or two – and create something, anything, maybe 3? Let yourself just have a ball with these. Create whatever – short story, flash fiction, poem. Just play.

Haiku / Senryu, Poetry by Sarah

Space For Self


Image creditCathal Mac an Bheatha

make space for yourself
overcome the fear and peer
through your heart’s window

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: TJ’s Household Haiku, window and heart; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt #219; and Daily Post Daily Prompt, overcome

Scribblings by Sarah

Night Sounds

Night time.
I lie and wait for sleep to come.

I try to calm my busy mind.
– but sounds distract me.

A scratching against the window
– hedges wrestling with the breeze.

Tick tick tick
– clock on the wall.

A distant, constant, low hum
– stream of traffic on the freeway.

A faint tooting blast
– overnight passenger train from Melbourne.

An occasional car rumbling past our house
– soon followed by a door slamming.

My phone pings an alert
– to attend or ignore? (Attend usually wins out)

Further stimulating my mind
– covers rustle as I struggle to find a comfortable position.

Dogs give a warning growl
– if I disturb them in the process.

I sigh with frustration as the hours pass by
– my elusive rest accentuated by my husband’s gentle snoring.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt and Image Credit: Daily Post Daily Prompt – warning; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt #218, September 3 – Night Sounds

Stories by Sarah

Close To The Sun


Image credit By Sarah ©;   Sunset at Mt McKay

Some of the best views of the high country, are near Falls Creek, Victoria.

I was currently trudging up Mt McKay and racing the clock to see a sunset. At 1,849 metres above the sea level, it is the highest spot in Australia accessible by road; and I was feeling every one of those metres as I huffed and puffed my way up. The gravel of the path crunched under my hiking boots as I walked along. That, combined with the bird song and wind gently rustling the leaves, provided a soundtrack; a rhythm; that kept me moving. I had to hurry, if I wanted to see it; time was running out.

I rounded the final corner, and saw I was just in time. The sight of the bluish-tinged, bush covered mountains of the Australian Alpine National Park greeted me. It was a 360o panorama of absolute wilderness that made my skin tingle. The cerise rays of the setting sun dipped lower and lower in the sky before slipping away completely. I was all alone, witnessing nature’s spectacular show. It was magical.

I pulled open my back pack, had a drink of water and crunched on an apple. I popped in my earbuds and turned my iPod onto random. I smiled to myself, appreciating the serendipitous moment, as the first few notes of David Usher’s Too Close To The Sun, began to play…

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Writing Prompt #217 – Stories By 5
The five
: Topic – A walk in the forest, Name – Usher, Fruit – apple, Colour – cerise, Sensation – tingle

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

The Girl Who Was Made Of Glass

Recitations of love fell on deaf ears,
She couldn’t risk the words shattering her perfect world.
She had constructed for herself, a fragile universe,
Where everything was made of glass.

She liked the way the light shimmered,
Reflected and bounced off the surface.
Here, she could control the pace; the energy.
Keeping everything safe, including her heart.

Until one day, drawn in by the glittering landscape,
A tiny bird flew into a window, breaking its wing.
She carefully nursed it until finally,
It could repay her kindness with its song.

The girl realised how lonely she had been
and decided to leave her glass kingdom.
As she opened the door to the world beyond
She broke into a million pieces.

Finally free from her glass coffin.

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, It’s All In The Title – August 20, 2017; Daily Post Daily Prompt, recite 

Haiku / Senryu, Poetry by Sarah

Minstrel Heart


Image credit Christian Schloe


words pouring; flowing;
exploring chaos of life
with her minstrel heart


By Sarah ©2017


Author’s Note: I felt bad for cropping her out, so she gets a post of her own (and the challenge has elicited two responses out of me today!)

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Special Collage – 6 August 2017; and also, The Syllabub Sea, Haiga Heaven, Challenge 33 – minstrel

Stories by Sarah

The Sparrow and The Fox


Image credits Window – Andrey Bobir; Fruit Center – Kevin Sloan

One day, a hungry fox stole some fruit from the tree where sparrow lived. Although the tree was laden with fruit, and she had plenty to spare, the greedy sparrow saw him and gave chase, determined to get it back. She believed the tree and all that was on it, belonged to her.

She flew high above, watching and following, as he ran and ran. Soon the fox grew tired and began to slow. When he stopped to enjoy his prize, the sparrow seized the opportunity and swooped down.

Just as the fox was about to bite into the juicy papaya, the sparrow tore off a strip from the fruit and spat it onto the ground. The fox looked at the spoiled food, dismayed.

“Why did you do that?” he asked the sparrow.

“Because that fruit is mine, and I’ll do with it what I like,” she replied haughtily.

The fox shrugged his shoulders and went to take another bite. But just as before, the sparrow darted in and tore off more flesh from the fruit, spitting it out onto the dirt.

Undeterred, the fox kept trying to eat. But each time, the sparrow stole his mouthful from under him, preferring to see it rot on the ground, than have another eat it.

Soon, the papaya was gone and the fox remained hungry.

Satisfied, the selfish sparrow flew away. The fox followed her with his gaze, making sure she was fully out of sight before, looking down and smiling.

The spiteful bird was so intent on taking back her fruit, that she had overlooked the most important part.

She had left the seeds.

And now, the fox could grow his own tree…

By Sarah ©2017

 

Author’s Note: This story is a little “left-field” and very different to my usual style. I really struggled to incorporate all elements of the prompt, so cropped the lady out of the collage. I took the quote as inspiration for the “layers” in my short story. The piece turned into a type of fable or tale that might be told for story therapy! There is obviously the literal tale, but underneath that, there is metaphor. It could be a tale of someone trying to break someone’s spirit but failing, as long as they have hope. Or a tale of someone who has the world, trying to keep others powerless. What is your interpretation? I’d love to hear it…

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Special Collage – 6 August 2017