The Crushed Cushion in Her Favourite Chair

A cushion crushed to the shape of her back,

A room hushed seeing now what it lacks.

For a time keep the cushion as if locked in a case,

For a time keep it as still as your face.

Hide far behind that solemn mask

Let it fester and pickle, let it turn dark -

A vacuum that sucks in all that you feel

And hides it right down deep in your heel.

In time plump the cushion, re-use the chair

Once you have brushed off all of her hair.

Keep it now as if it’s pristine and brand new,

Treat it with all the attention and care due -

But still do not sit in it yourself,

Still furtively glance, treat as if on a shelf,

As if you expect to see a vision of her ghost

Tutting if you sit and try to act as host.

One day you will remove the cushion -

One day yourself will be pushing

That chair out of the room,

Once you’ve passed each stage of doom.

But not today.

Today we will think about what has been lost,

Today we will ask ourselves, “Was ist los?”

The IMLS Knowledge Beacon

The Intergalactic Mobile Library Ship

Knowledge Beacon is on an endless trip

To find, store, disseminate knowledge

To purchase, scrounge, find and forage.

In charge is Captain Ranganathan,

Who at each stop, call or station,

Personally greets each patron aboard -

He’s won many space customer awards.

As all good captains he shows prescience

And follows The 5 Laws of Library Science:

1

Books are for use

So we stop, we mingle, no excuse -

Encourage catalogue and shelf perusal,

Discourage any reading refusal*

2

To each reader/person a book -

We just need to help them look

And find the books that are for them,

That will be to them all super gems.

3

And each book its reader -

Ask questions, become the feeder,

Establish their ultimate book diet

And suggest all cuisines - “Why not, try it!”

4

The crew must save the time of that reader

By being a most marvellous weeder,

By teaching each person how to find

The books to teach and to help them unwind.

5

An IMLS is a growing organism/creature -

Feed, water, trim, re-pot - standard features.

All libraries are always and ever changing,

They will never be stagnant, never be fading.

And so, an intro to the Knowledge Beacon,

So when you see it you won’t be freakin’

But be eager to go ahead, climb aboard,

To find you an adventure to be adored.

*While acknowledging that it is not for all

We seek to offer alternatives universal

Talkin' Blues No.1

I’ve been tryin’ ta write me some talkin’ blues,

I think I know what I need to do -

But I ain't got no kinda of theme,

Just a traditional rhyming scheme.

I got nothin’... Nothing anyone’d care for.

Sooooooo

I failed a bit with that first bit,

But this ain't gonna be no Top 10 hit.

Sooner or later if I keep writin’

I’ll surely get to some gold strikin’.

Just keep on digging… this hole.

Now what do I got to complain about?

What's gonna make me scream and shout?

What's the middle class got to protest

From its safe, warm and cosy nest?

Same as always … someone, anyone else. Anyone different. (snorts and raises eyebrows)

Or what funny story could I tell?

Maybe when I pressed the button for the bell,

And it stuck and it rung and rung,

And it was always hometime for everyone?

But it's a bad story … and it's not even true.

And o’course all of this is in your head,

I should be “singing”, playing guitar instead -

Not leaving it to your imagination,

And if you don’t know the tune, your confusination.

Ah, I lost it … not that I had it… better wrap it up quick.

Sooooooo

Guess I'll head back to the drawing board, 

“Quick ‘cause everyone here is bored!”

Guess Talkin’ Blues are hard to do,

But I'll try again - maybe you can too.

I'm not a great writer 

(though I'm tryin to sit with some)

 … 

just tryin’ ta have fun.

The past is full of knots

The past is full of knots

That can never be undone.

For we have cast our lots,

Each turn we've had is done.

But why upset the past

When it has brought us here?

This is the one die cast,

Whose change I’d live to fear.

And now we tie our knots

Together with great care,

For the future we can jot

Together as a pair.

The Vocal and the Silent

I will paint our lives together,

You will paint our lives together,

And I will pose you forever,

And I will sit still forever,

Even your face will be mine. 

Even my face will be yours.

I will be vocal and you will be silent,

I won't be vocal and you won't be silent,

You will live fully in my firmament;

I will live fully in your firmament;

Your smile will say everything’s fine.

My smile will say everything’s fine.

I will build you a monument,

You’ll build me a mausoleum,

A beloved human document!

A life much like linoleum!

Your face will not be forgotten.

Just my face won’t be forgotten.

I will shout and let you be seen,

Your treatment will always be mean,

No one will ever say I was mean,

And my work will never be seen -

To eternity, my love, you’ll be gotten.

In hell your love lies and is rotten.

---

See also: The Haberdashery of Imaginary Art #271: A one-sided story, or The Vocal and the Silent.

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.

“What they think is real”

“What they think is real” - 

And this scares me, 

This rot that’s congealed

On their brain makes them act, 

Makes them feel,

As if these things are real -

These shadows,

These distorted reflections,

This bile infection,

Alters their brain, their eyes,

To see these facts as lies,

Their opinion multiplied

In power to shout

What they say it’s about

And its just poison they spout.

STOP

How to make them see?

How to meet them on the field?

Because what they think is real,

And we need to change what they think

If we’re to get out this slipp’ry sink.

Just need to find

A way to change their minds -

To make life fair,

For every single bairn

Young to old,

Til this story is no longer told.

Because what they think is real,

And must be treated as if it were so,

In order to change how they feel -

With new seeds we must tenderly sow.

The Polite Rioter's Toolkit

The Polite Rioter's Toolkit:
Tea, comics, and trumpets or crumpets -
Feminism, too, we won’t call people strumpets.
A new way we’ve found to raise our call
We’ll riot, for sure, but we'll look after y’all
With a hot drink, a snack and a read, though small
The Polite Rioter’s Toolkit - For one?  For all!

---

Inspired by this conversation on Twitter.  

Jackdaw and Jay

Jackdaw and Jay each make their play,
Stand with me every step of the way.
With birds on my shoulders, each side,
Onward I know I’ll successfully stride.

Jay asks me questions wherever we go,
Keeps me looking, learning, on my toes,
Keeps me ever and ongoingly curious,
Collecting knowledge, no matter how spurious.

Jackdaw often brings to me the rain,
They bring an end, but also each refrain -
Keeps me always in a reflective state,
Reminds me of my joys to celebrate.

Jackdaw and Jay each make their play,
Stand with me every step of the way.
With birds on my shoulders, each side,
Onward I know I’ll successfully stride.

---

Inspired by an Instragram post by Kae Tempest made when they announced they were gender neutral and changing name.  Included in they discussed the meaning the name Kae: "It’s an old English word that means jay bird. Jays are associated with communication, curiosity, adaptation to new situations and COURAGE which is the name of the game at the moment. It can also mean jackdaw which is the bird that symbolises death and rebirth. Ovid said the jackdaw brought the rain. Which I love. It has its roots in the Latin word for rejoice, be glad and take pleasure."

With an umbrella

With an umbrella designed 

To stop a meteorite,

I saved the world tonight.

With my mind resigned

To gain no recognition

I wonder about transposition.

Because

There was a photo of me

Exploding that comet

Into sprays of fiery vomit. 

Yet there’s no photo of me

Nor does my name get a mention 

Will it ever gain esteemed retention?

And

My name is mud, I know,

My inclusion would embarrass

The elected suits and brasses 

But the seeds I did sow,

To save the world from strife -

I risked my one and only life!

So

With an umbrella designed

To enslave the world tonight,

I will shelter you all with fright. 

Start now to feel resigned,

Get ready for transposition,

For me to control your cognition.

Mindfullness

I suffer from mindfullness

-

It’s brimming.

Give me some mindfulness

-

Need strimming.

Sort me.

Port me.

Unfill me:

Empty.

Refill me:

Plenty.

Not too much:

Less is more.

Not too much:

Stress is a bore.

E214

Oval table of doom,

In that dark hell of a room -

An eye to my pain

Soak up my soul’s pain

From my worst day

When I failed in the fray.

Once again.

Want to scream in the meeting,

A most unfriendly greeting,

Rip out eyes limbs and hair -

Actions totally unfair

To the chosen one and chooser,

When my mind wasn’t looser.

Once again.

Frozen in here and in time,

Working through things in rhyme,

Get back onto the horse,

Try again, but of course,

Get it better, get it right,

Beyond all else - be airtight.

Once again.

But my body’s a cage,

Filled through with rage,

How can I win this battle

When I’m so fucking rattled -

I can’t concentrate at all,

Only want to freefall.

Once again.

So I sit at that table

No longer able

To join in or think

Of a future not chinked

With such failure as seen

In Room E214.

Never again?

A neutral state (away from it all)

give me music

that fills the very air,

but doesn't go anywhere.

fill my mind

with a canvas that is clear,

all space a void, nothing to fear.

set me apart,

away from the crowds, confusion -

place me in a bubble, allow me seclusion.

stop my time.

pause it; or place me alongside,

for a while let me ride a new tide.

and take my pain,

and all of my pleasure release,

let the numbness inside me increase.

then leave me outside,

somewhere like a waiting room:

a place that is no place; but not a tomb -

i’ll walk away in a moment,

let me go quietly vent;

give me time to recharge,

give me time to ferment -

because too many times,

always the same;

they take away everything,

leave me in shame.

so take me to a neutral state where

black runs into white and white into black,

where i can’t be seen and i can’t look back,

with no good and no evil, no love and no spite,

where white runs into black and black into white -

just;

take this mask,

let me show you my face.

and,

for a time; give me some space,

take me away from it all.

i no longer wish 

to man my stall.

On seeing through my Enchroma glasses

Was everything quite so dull before?

Not that I ever found colours a bore 

But now they pop out

Now they stand out

Now they jump and dance about

So many greens! Who ever knew?

And reds, yellows, pinks and blues!

All it took was some specs,

To brighten the flecks,

And stop flowers from being mere specks?