In my quiver I carry A ladle arrow to marry An arrow of rose thorns For those to be scorned Of mistletoe a small dart For those with fickle hearts And last but not least A javelin in pen shape Bardic calling without escape
Written for this week’s Sunday Muse. Inspired by the image and a Swedish proverb – When the cat is gone the rats dance on the table. Meaning when the one in charge is gone, the subordinates do as they please.
I really needed something light and fun to write, so this was perfect. I recommend you to read Rob’s piece. It’s great fun!
Written to the image at Sunday Muse. And heavily affected by feelings related to the latest IPCC report.
This is a new form for me, the Alouette. I recently read this delightful poem at Tao Talk, which in turn was inspired by a poem by Shay. I frankly love how the writing community inspires and teaches by passing the lore of poetry from one person to the other.
The Alouette has a meter of 5,5,7,5,5,7. And a rhyme scheme of a,a,b,c,c,b.
It was a kind little robot. Designed to keep lonely people company. One of them tinkered with its head and gave it wanderlust. Just to see how far a little robot without locomotion could go.
Quite far as it turns out. Being small and cute. Kind and polite. It got humans to take it all over the world. Eventually one of the things it hadn’t done was take a road trip through America. So off it went.
It got as far as Philly before an uncaring human stripped it for it’s parts and left the rest lying on the roadside.
For some reason all I could see was the remains of a robot head. And I immediately started thinking about “Iron Woman” or perhaps better known as hitchBOT. The little robot that hitchhiked all over, but met its end when it tried to hitchhike through the US.
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Click on the frog above to read more stories or post one of your own.
I awoke in the night. Drawn by a strange song. It bubbled and splashed. Groaned and cracked. I found myself walking towards the fjord. Cold snow under bare feet made me realise I was in thrall. Stuck in a walking dream. Led by some evil Fay. My body felt sleep heavy. My mind treacle slow.
I managed to throw myself into a snowdrift. The cold woke me fully. Just feets from the water’s edge.
I’m my mind I heard a rumbling laugh. “I’ll get you yet, lass. There’s still time before the spring thaw. Your blood will make me stronger.”
It had been a colourful hippie bus, proclaiming love and peace. Vibrant, buzzing with hope and life. Wheels turning for untold miles, on roads and in minds. Traveling all over the country spreading the word. Encouraging the travelers to go further, look beyond. Envision a world where everyone belongs.
~ Where did the trip go wrong? ~
When did we lose it’s soulful songs? Forget that a new era never dawned. Today its message a lost echo, barely heard. Such sentiments much harder to find. The world full of nature’s destruction, division and strife. A faded, bleached out memory overgrown with weeds.