The Elemental Beings of Paracelsus

Paracelsus was a sixteenth century scientist who described four elemental beings - "Salamanders, which correspond to fire; Gnomes, corresponding to earth; Undines, corresponding to water; and Sylphs, corresponding to air."

Salamanders

Existing in the very heart of fire

Burning’s a Salamander's desire.

They eat purely to survive,

Allowing procreation, to thrive.

Born from a fusion of The Three -

Air, heat, fuel, their trinity -

That create a ravenous beast

Eager from the start to eat

Anything that will burn

Anything that fire will turn

Into food for its very heart,

To breed its mightiest part.

Existing in the very heart of fire

Burning’s a Salamander's desire -

Be careful of these read hot creatures,

(Listen closely to your teachers)

And look out for their fiery features.

Gnomes

Gnomes are gardeners,

Gnomes feed trees,

Gnomes break down and eat the leaves.

Gnomes are farmers, 

Gnomes form fields,

Gnomes build crops, increase the yield.

For gnomes are mothers,

Gnome are midwives

Gnomes warm seeds and help them thrive.

And gnomes are doctors,

Gnomes give good care,

Gnomes let you rest ‘pon their grassy hair.

But gnomes are wreckers,

Gnomes destroy,

Gnomes roll you downhill, with all things toy:

For gnomes are undertakers,

Gnomes bind us all,

From the loftiest human

To the base criminal.

Undines

Undines jump over rocks in the river,

Undines rage and rest with the sea.

Undines, cold, make my throat quiver

Undines live inside of me.

 

Undines feed plants through their roots,

Passed on by gnomic brethren,

Undines raise, bloat veg and fruit,

Undines feed us and our children.

 

Undines make up life, give life, are life,

Undines are the Earth’s majority.

Building blocks keeping us from strife

And the main part of a nice cup o’tea.

Sylphs

I feel sylphs on my face,

Hear them natter at my ear,

As they occupy every space.

Invisible to me, to my eyes

Oh lord, I do wish to gawd

To see them one day, see and spy

The sylphs’ easy, graceful flight

The air filled with faces fair:

A sight to fill me with delight.

100 Words: The Yellow House by the Blue Sea

Won't you stop by for tea

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Won’t you spend time with me 

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

I wrote this down for you to see

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Left it on your settee

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

If only I could leave me

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Then I would run to you

Then I would say to you

Come and be with me 

In the Yellow house 

By the Blue Sea

Always always

Forever ever

---

Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

Worry

Something that grows 

until it’s exposed.

Something that thrives in the dark, 

but withers at the slightest spark -

Worry is a mould that festers,

unless you cut it off at source,

Worry is a ghoul that pesters,

never let it run its course.

So

Let me share it with you now,

Let its hold diminish.

Let me share it with you now,

Let this feeling finish.

And

Let us talk so that you can walk,

Let me help carry so you don’t tarry.

Never worry on your own;

Know that you’re not alone.

Bin Flowers

Bin flowers hit me like a cold shower's worth of truth.  Remind me of Ruth. The girl with curls with whom I wanted to whirl and to dance and to prance across town in her best night/ball gown. My advances she assigned to a bin, her affections I could not win. But what of this scene? Who? What? Today. Here. How? I wanted to help right now. Traced the flowers to the florist, asked them was it a tourist? No, an office worker, a regular, no shirker. They even knew which one, thought my task would be easily done but they wouldn’t talk to me about it, walked away all clouded.  Until the fifth day I tried to block their way (metaphorically) when they shouted, sprayed and spouted, “Look, they didn’t turn up, only texted, I had burned it all, really messed it.  Maybe I should have given them away, but my mind was all in a fray; I took love for granted, didn’t care for it and I lanced it.”  So these bin flowers were wasted by someone who was too hasty. But what about yours?

Quafftide!

Quafftide! 

Put all thoughts aside 

And drink

Don’t think

Just pick up your glass

Go on, get off your arse,

And join us in merriment,

It won’t be to your detriment,

No!

Come and choose your tipple,

Seize it in your hand’s gripple

And savour that first sipple

That will take you on this triple.

For tis quafftide,

Come for the ride

Stay for the cheer

There’s much more here 

Than just pale beer

It can be soft and cold or hot,

Whatever you like or have got,

Just pull up a chair and chat

Take off your coat, 

Put down your hat

For, I tell you - 

Quafftide!

See: https://twitter.com/susie_dent/status/1593671745445269507

China Anniversary

For just over twenty years I’ve been blogging,

Twenty years of this creative flogging.

Ramblings, rhymes, stories, haiku,

All wrapped up and written for you.

(Whoever you are, mostly it’s me,

For me, to keep me my sanity.)

All sort of things, even conceptual “art,”

Going right back to uni, back to that start

In a little library computer room,

Weaving posts on my friend’s little loom.

For years I covered all most everything,

Too much, sometimes, with words I’d sting,

But mostly this was just the inception

Of an outlet for creative conceptions.

Real life eventually took a back seat

As I found other new ways to feast:

Timothy found and captured a unicorn,

An oath to 250 Word stories was sworn.

And after the loom was gone

A slow expansion was begun

Into haberdasheries of diff’rent kinds

Six in all, so far, you can find!

Fridays soon became Fri-yays,

Alongside some other prompt days.

And the occasional comp win or mention

Would make me feel more of a menschen.

But the most warming feels,

Like the hottest of meals,

Come to the bottom of the page:

A reader’s comment most sage.

So, this is it, my China Anniversary, 

Of fighting my greatest adversary,

And it’s all as frail as a china decoration,

If I cannot find a way to (“proper”) publication.

Mind shadows

Did you know, that foe

Is only your mind?

It is not one of your kind.

It lives in the dark places,

Showing half of one of its faces,

While hiding half of yours,

Buried deeply in unused drawers.

You need only a key or some light

To save you from your plight

Once you recognise what you know:

That that foe

Is only your mind.

To yourself, always be kind.