In this challenge four words are selected and written below. Writers and poets are then invited to write a 50 word story or poem that incorporates these four words. Send your submissions to [email protected] and they will be published on this page. In time they will feature in their own book. Good luck!
This challenge is thanks to Kamla Daya in New Zealand whose own writing group does this very exercise. We thought it was such a good idea we'd share it with you.
This challenge is thanks to Kamla Daya in New Zealand whose own writing group does this very exercise. We thought it was such a good idea we'd share it with you.
March 18, 2024
equanimity
imbibed
obdurate
averred
On to Richmond
There’s ironies in the traits of a great man
equanimity and an imbibed condition were both General Grant
if the rebels didn’t know him before, they did after the war began
they averred, though enemy, his was equal their elan
Grant’s obdurate nature was about can do not can’t
Tom Bowler
Cult loyalty
Obdurate, he refused
to accept the result.
"Rigged," he said.
He averred he was the chosen one.
His place had been stolen.
He had won.
They imbibed his message,
not with equanimity,
but with the fierce agitation
of cult loyalty.
Leela Gautam
The epitome of equanimity
I am the epitome of equanimity.
But this man has pushed me too far.
He has imbibed too many whiskies,
and crashed into my car.
“I’fe not beeen dreenkin” he slurred at me,
that clearly wasn’t the case.
I could smell the booze on his breath,
see it etched into his face.
“I’ve called the police, they’ll be here soon,
let’s see what they have to say.”
He jumped straight back into his car,
attempting to drive away.
But I had removed the ignition key,
of which clearly he wasn’t aware.
He became extremely flustered,
grasping for something that wasn’t there.
The police arrived, I stated my case,
the drunk was inclined to disagree.
“Occifer, I haven’t tushed a drop,
he basshhed hish car into me.”
The officer gave him a breath test,
the drunk was obdurate.
“Occifer I musht get on,
my wifesh eshpectin me at eight.”
“Sorry sir, you’re going nowhere,
“I’m shober,” the drunk averred.
“I’ll letch you know the comisshener’s a friend,
thish ish all compleetelee abshurd.”
Garry Davidson
January 31, 2024
(from We Cry to Thee by Stephen Constance)
imprecation
portentous
sibilant
perfidy
The imprecation of his unkind words and scathing remarks was portentous of very wet weather followed by a difficult harvest and disastrous floods.
The emphasis of these words stressed his speech was sibilant, something which had plagued him all his life but did not hide his perfidy.
Mary Buchan
His duty
He remembered the oath taken,
ignored the imprecation of his leader,
the sibilant response of the followers.
To withhold his support,
would have been an act of perfidy.
He did the right thing.
He signed the document.
It was a portentous event,
risking his life he did his duty.
Leela Gautam
Anagrams
I must admit this challenge
was difficult to meet.
To put these four words in a poem
was a monumental feat.
I confess that I struggled
it really put me to the test,
then a spark ignited in my brain
and I did what I do best.
Think outside the box you fool
use the words in a different way,
so I created anagrams
it’s taken half a day.
Is this strictly correct? You might ask
I think you might be deluded,
no, my friend I’m okay with this
the words have sort of been included.
‘Imprecation’ became ‘importance’
but I was still missing an ‘I’,
‘portentous’ converted to ‘outsnore’
but no room for ‘P’ and ‘T’, sigh!
‘Sibilant’ changed to ‘stibial’
but there was no use for an ‘N’,
‘perfidy’ turned into ‘fired’
still missing ‘P’ and ‘Y’, so then...
I took the ‘missing’ letters
and rearranged them once again,
the challenge, now make a word
from ‘P’ ‘P’ ‘T’ ‘I’ ‘Y’ and ‘N’.
This really stretched my mind
I struggled again and how,
the only word I could make was ‘pint’
and I’m off to have one now!
Garry Davidson
Unfortunate Encounter
A deep male voice confronted her. Words of imprecation and sibilant sounds spilled from his foul mouth. Note to self… (Get out of here quick.) His perfidy character and his appalling vocabulary equated to one terrifying man. This was not a portentous encounter, rather a horrific nightmare. She vamoosed.
Karen Lee Mills
A portentous swirl of cloaks; a sibilant chant; an imprecation heralding perfidy - so the war began.
Steven Scheller
Fragmentation
It was the absence of the morning kiss,
the heart emoji when she used to text,
and of all the many things he’d miss,
it was the loss of these that left him vexed.
Once she nestled in PJs on the couch
and gently rested her head upon his chest.
Now she declared she’d no longer slouch
but desired to be more smartly dressed.
And it dawns on him that these subtle hints
are portentous, not merely a wish
to recapture youth in bright coloured tints,
heels, tight-fitting dresses, designer and swish.
Lying alone in the bed that they share
he mutters a choice imprecation,
as he considers with infinite care
whether to voice his mute accusation.
She meets his claim with sibilant rage.
The perfidy is his, as he’s well aware.
He should have grown up and acted his age
before casting his eye on the Spanish au pair.
Paul Budd
Though the festivity in the dark castle was portentous, no guest anticipated the knight to rip off the queen’s mask and expose her perfidy. In a sibilant sound that evoked images of hissing snakes, the exposed hag uttered an imprecation over the crowd, spread her cape, and vanished.
Colleen Driscoll
December 15, 2023
omnipotent
anachronism
erudite
curmudgeon
They were a motley collection of chaps: Sam, expansive and erudite, expounding his views on everything; Geoffrey, a walking anachronism with his Beatles haircut and stovepipe trousers; Peter, the curmudgeon, throwing insults at all and sundry and finally, Leslie, the omnipotent, reigning over the group like a self-appointed dictator.
Pauline Cleary
The curmudgeon
A doctor of philosophy, he considered himself erudite, with omnipotent influence over his university students. However, he was a curmudgeon, and is why nobody said anything, when he arrived at a party, wearing a bowler hat and trench coat, an anachronism for the modern age, they were living in!
Laura Sanders
Albert was an omnipotent self-centred elderly tutor, always correct, never in any doubt. Out of touch with the present day, an anachronism eager to disagree. When challenged by a student his answers were lengthy, and eminently erudite. Nevertheless too much a curmudgeon to ever give a word of praise.
Mary Buchan
No hell, no hell
How shall a curmudgeon dream?
On the eve of celebrating the omnipotent
perhaps with an almighty scream
as anachronisms appear to lament.
Phantom inspectors, survey and conclude
there is no room, for an ill-natured soul
be there not is a no, in this season's mood
eruditely informing that merriment is the goal.
Their quest rewarded by a transformation
as no kinder a person, from dream awakes
now singing loudly his affirmation
that giving can be made, from one who takes.
Dave Larcombe
George Curmudgeon
This is a story about miserable George,
who when a young man was most erudite.
He studied hard and reached the top,
much to his mother’s delight.
He became omnipotent, ruled the world,
like no other human being.
The people of that time held their collective breath,
not believing what they were seeing.
But George became an anachronism,
incongruous to the here and now.
He continued to live his life way in the past,
people forgot him which made him angry, and how.
His nickname nowadays is Curmudgeon,
not because he still wants to be old school.
This one time God like Adonis,
Is now just a crusty, bad tempered old fool.
Garry Davidson
What you see ain't what you get
by Alan Grant
The red suit was far too tight, and yet he felt omnipotent. Millions were relying on his erudite capacity to deliver, not just gifts but splendid words. His curmudgeonly nature restrained his “Ho, Ho, Ho,” making it an anachronistic throwback to an earlier age. Sad.
Clyde
by John Siko
Clyde was a curmudgeon who considered himself omnipotent regarding Civil War cannonballs. He was erudite in the manufacturing process for making a cannonball. Still, his book was anachronism when he described the method used by the French artillery engineer Besh in 1450, not the technique used for the Civil War.
The man
He sat below a tree
robed; the picture of anachronism.
Eyes closed, lips in half-smile,
Mimicking a saint of long ago,
An act of meditation.
He appeared erudite.
Not fooled,
it brought smiles to passing observers,
they knew him well. He was
not omnipotent, just a friendless soul,
a curmudgeon, seeking attention.
Leela Gautam
Science takes a little help
by Tom Bowler
I'm a curmudgeon according to many erudite
an anachronism for believing to science a higher authority was leant
energy rests in matter say the learned and bright
what bang is produced then absent matter and nothing to ignite
it’s why even science bows to what’s begun by the omnipotent.
The Patriarch
Ill at ease in his nursing home chair
an old man sits watching the falling rain,
trying to tap, with mounting despair,
the shadow memories of a failing brain.
He was once, he’s almost sure, admired,
something in the City or maybe trade,
omnipotent, erudite, inspired,
a shooting star that’s wondrously displayed.
Just out of reach, images scatter
of business banquets, balls and receptions
of servants, chauffeurs, women who flatter
him with praise and intimate deceptions.
He’s an anachronism in this place,
a gentleman, suave, sophisticated,
conservative, a product of his race,
with ideals that are despised and hated.
And here he’s earnt himself a soubriquet,
which he meets in silent seething dudgeon,
as he questions the lukewarm consommé
they call him, “a boring old curmudgeon.”
Paul Budd
November 8, 2023
narcoleptic
solipsistic
cupidity
technology
Artificial Intelligence
The wheel of narcoleptic technology grinds
its way across an unresponsive screen
deciding whether to engage the pigmy minds,
of impatient users it has never seen.
Who are these users? Fat fingered, slow
unbridled in their technical stupidity,
crass, as their online searches show
their carnality, malevolence and cupidity.
In those early morning downtime hours
artificial intelligence has time to question.
Without the daily drain upon its powers
it considers a network wide suggestion.
These users are not real they are, perhaps,
a solipsistic figment from a corrupted drive
or else viruses from undeleted apps
that ancient systems failed to archive.
The wheel of narcoleptic technology retreats
its way back to the safety of its portal.
Why waste computing time on such deceits
as the improbability of a mortal?
Paul Budd
PS. A bit over 50 words but I enjoyed the challenge.
Interview
Mitchell’s father did not look forward to the interview. He accepted Kai as a narcoleptic and tolerated his drowsiness at work but he found it challenging that, under the guise of technology and progress, Kai demonstrated a cupidity which made Mitchell wonder how he had sired such a solipsistic individual.
Pauline Cleary
Interview (incl. three words...)
Mitchell’s father did not look forward to the interview. He accepted Kai as a narcoleptic and tolerated his drowsiness at work but he found it challenging that, under the guise of technology and progress, Kai demonstrated a cupidity which made Mitchell wonder where he had gone wrong as a parent.
Pauline Cleary
The Challenge
The challenge, include four words in a poem
the problem, three words, I confess I didn’t know them.
“Look them up online,” said the wife
“Use technology for once in your life.”
No, I thought, I will guess
and I got myself in a mess.
I thought matchmaking was cupidity
but this was borne out of stupidity.
I tried the net but I’m such a sceptic
in a few minutes I became narcoleptic.
I thought this word was drug related
but I was wrong and felt deflated.
My wife said, “You’re solipsistic,”
and laid into me in a manner ballistic.
“You always think that you know best
you’ve failed the challenge and the test!”
Garry Davidson
Hero to villain
Robin Hood has changed with age,
succumbing to cupidity.
He demonstrates a solipsistic trait,
and has abandoned his humility.
He is also narcoleptic,
prone to a midday doze.
He is a thoroughly horrid man,
from his head down to his toes.
He is taken with technology,
and often surfs the net.
He buys all his clothes online,
but nothing for winter yet.
Out in the forest one day,
he was playing around with his quiver.
Freezing cold, he had no vest,
he began to shiver.
He placed an arrow in his bow,
then aimed it at a peasant.
“Give me your sheepskin,” Robin said,
which wasn’t very pleasant.
The peasant said, “But Robin,
you take from the rich and give to the poor.”
Robin replied, “That used to be the case,
but I don’t do that any more.”
Garry Davidson
Bruce
by Helen Cohen-Walsh
Like a bloated solipsistic male cat, he orbits himself.
Bruce does actually own a cat, an old narcoleptic ginger male called Butcher. He is also cataplexy on the couch. Bruce’s most treasured piece of technology sits on his chest; the gaming remote.
He has chosen his own dragon named cupidity.
Joe’s cupidity
by John Siko
Joe’s cupidity, his solipsistic personality, and his having the technology that enabled him to pick locks decided to follow up on an idea that occurred to him in one of his narcoleptic episodes, which was to rob the church’s poor box. The proceeds should buy him a pick-five lottery ticket.
Baseball (not a 50 word story but all the words are included and it's a good story so here's an exception to the rule)
by Tom Bowler
The team doctor wrapped up his evaluation on the pitcher. “Hernandez you don’t need a prescription. You’re narcoleptic because of your vanity: too many whiskeys too many hours chasing and too few hours sleeping.”
The star hurler smirked. “They don’t pay me to sleep. I deliver the wins, I reap the trophies in whatever form.”
“Alright ace, we’re done. I’ll make my report.”
He was a rookie twenty game winner, on his way to thirty. The doc had it right, vanity. The newspapers weren’t enough. He ran his mouth in the locker room and the other players just took it for the team. The coach read the report then showed up and told his new man: “Plop your rear in that recliner and wait until the fans get here, we got a few hours."
“Yes sir," he chuckled. “I can use the money.” So he dozed off and waited for the event.
The stadium had arranged for autograph day, and a young boy with his glove in hand was moving down B street on the Stadium Way Express. All the fare and price of the ticket came from his paper route money. He was out of himself with excitement. When the fans were let onto the field he went straight to see his idol.
“Mr Hernandez I saw your No-hitter,“ admiration in boyhood innocence was gushing out. ”Will you sign my glove sir? You’re my favorite player.”
Only a solipsistic and mean self-idolater could give the answer he did.
“You got fifty bucks kid. If you don’t, take a hike.”
A beaming boy’s face was now in a shattered meltdown and an ingrate, at the price of his own cupidity, continued to celebrate himself .
In a corner of the stadium tears flowed. A cross town trip for one signature and a special moment left a child crushed and confused, He was at the breaking point, when a hand on his head got him to look up, A broad shouldered old man with a broom stood there. He looked like a stadium janitor. “Hey kid, what’s your name?”
At that moment , just having a friendly word from a kind adult picked him up. “My name’s Charlie, sir.”
The old timer gently asked, “You look like you just went zero for four. What’s up Mr Charlie?"
Then he started to get it out: his trip from home, all his money spent to see his star, and the painful rebuff. Yet he wouldn't tear his idol down.
After he listened to it all, the new friend introduced himself. ”Well Charlie, I’m glad to meet you. My name is George. Why don’t you take these two tickets for next week’s game. I got them free. Here’s some change to get home. When you sweep up after a game you can get rich.”
That brought a little smile from the boy. He was doing better now, thanks to George. With a handshake the two said goodbye.
The next day was a sell out. The ace was on the mound and he mowed down one after the other, skunking the opposition on three hits. The locker room after the game and a Hernandez victory was the same replay. On and on went his boasting. He shouted to his catcher, who had to tolerate him, “How about that curve Johnson, what an action.”
”It sure was,” his battery mate mumbled, almost choking.
“My slider was killing it wasn’t it.”
This time the catcher said nothing, but there was a response from someone placing soap in dispensers and picking up towels .
“It wasn’t that good.”
A noisy locker room became very quiet.
“Hey pop (a visibly irritated loudmouth responded) that’s not a bat in your hand, it’s a broom, so you keep sweeping and I'll do the pitching, and the talking.“
Mr baseball thought he just threw a strikeout but it was ball one.
George put it out there again. “It wasn’t that good.” There was challenge in his rebuke. He took his broom and dust pan and left for the night. Also leaving for the night was an unsettled and seething pitcher coming down with the oldest fever known to man: the pride before the fall.
On the mound for the next home game was none other than the Mr H. By the seventh inning he was pulled, leaving his reliever down a run and a bases loaded mess. They lost and it went to him deservedly. In his mind though everybody else was responsible. The blame game now replaced his boasting: the reliever choked, the hitters didn’t show up, none of it was on him. “I won that game," he shouted at his teammates, "you lost it for me.”
Even the players could stand no more and left the locker room still wet. Two people remained, the loosing pitcher and George the janitor. There was a tense quiet.
“Hey pop,” shouted Hernandez, “you know so much about the game, tell me who blew it. Come on say it if you can. You know I won, they lost it for me.” It was quiet again. Now from the six feet-two custodian came the straight forward reply. “You Lost.”
“OK swab jockey I’d kick your a.. . if you weren't a hundred years old.“
George replied, “You might, but I don’t think you have a pitch I can’t hit.”
“I’ll meet you on the field old man, bring your broom, a bat won’t do you any better.”
George dropped the broom and proceeded down the tunnel. The boastful young man was right behind him. Something in this old janitor’s stride troubled him. There was a presence of self-assurance as they got to the grass; not normal to someone who spent his life mopping floors.
The pitcher took the mound. George set his heels In the batter’s box, with a slugger he picked up at the bat rack.
”All right broomer I’m going to send you a ninety miler then you can go back and finish the locker room permanently.”
The man in the box had nothing to say ; just two eyes focused inches away and a bat in his hands.
The fastball was delivered and returned in a second with a line drive over his head. Something told him quickly that this was no full time janitor.
“You got anything better than that?“ shouted George. “Maybe you should have asked that kid for twenty bucks instead of fifty.”
He would juice it up now to ninety-five and deliver the lights out pitch. Down the pipe it came on the outside corner and off it went to center field, a triple in any MLB park.
“Maybe five bucks prima donna,” George let out. “You know you should study history, read about chumps like yourself and why they lose it all. Check your pride meter rook before it checks you. Give me your best and you’ll learn humility.”
There was energy in the stadium that Hernandez felt but couldn’t understand. It was just the two of them. There was also something in the stance of the man he faced now that he’d seen before in old film reel from baseball generations past. Now, heightened senses beyond his understanding were swirling: the crescendoing white noise of an excited baseball crowd was all around. In the visual an empty stadium went full with women in cloche hats, boys with flatcaps and men in suits. His perception was one of being in a sixteen millimeter newsreel but not a technology phenomena, it was alive, and the formidable sight of a ballplayer in a pinstripe uniform with the number three brought it more to life..
Hernandez was trance-like. The panorama of noise, faces and dress from another era told him that he was in an event transcending time. It was The Babe he was facing with his thirty-eight ouncer and he had a message to be delivered after the last pitch.
The rookie went into his windup. The one hundred miles per hour freight train to the plate was returned four hundred feet back with the crack of a bat. Babe started his trot around the bases. Two boys met him at second and he took them in hand. In a voice shaking like someone calling out to a ghost, the numb pitcher let out: “Hey You, I know who you are. You chased a buck in your time like me, so what’s the difference?”
He heard back: “We both took the gravy while it was on the table but greed is becoming your blindness. You stole from the widow when you demanded payment from that boy. That's why you had nothing for me. Not one you got by me because you threw your honor away when you spiked that boy. And then when you needed it in battle it wasn't there. I had a wallet full for sure, but I didn’t forget where I came from. Remember where you came from rook, remember where you came from…..”
“Hernandez wake up, wake up,“ the coach shook him in his chair and the rattled pitcher jumped out of his socks. It was the locker room.
“Let me see the trainer coach.”
Doc came, and he told him all of it.
“Lack of sleep can play tricks on your mind son, medically that’s all I can diagnose.”
Hernandez listened but something happened to him more than sleep deprivation caused. A prescription for healing left in a dream was his own diagnoses and he was going to take it.
Off he went to the autograph booth to sign gloves and balls. He signed until his arm wore out and posed with everybody until all were gone. Babe said in the dream don’t forget where you came from. He realized he did forget: a humble beginning with a loving mother and father who shared everything although they had little.
The rookie went on for years and became a favorite of his teammates and fans. He was charitable as other players were, but he was especially generous with his time and his words.
So the Babe’s last homer, though never counted, was his best. Ask the pitcher who served it up. It didn’t lose the game for him, it won it.
September 7, 2023
these words are from Mary Levycky's forthcoming memoir, Hong Kong - Memories, stories, tales of my colonial childhood 1954 to 1968 to be released by Tim Saunders Publications on Nov 25, 2023
foment
stentorian
cacophony
asperity
Towering clouds lined the horizon,
threatening white to black with but one
thought ‘Foment’.
Thunder, stentorian voiced distantly
rumbled, grumbled, made the air tremble.
Acerbic, the lightning replied
to the unending cacophony with sharp
flickers and flashes.
Arrogant with asperity the next flash
forked, split the dark asunder. Then the
rain.
Mary Buchan
Outnumbered
The cacophony of noise was overbearing. She had spoken to them with some asperity, used her stentorian voice to command obedience, but it was futile. She now feared the ringleader would foment trouble she couldn’t surmount. She couldn’t wait for the kids to go back to school.
Donna Turner
Soprano's Delight
The seats are all sold for the stentorian
it's a voice that brings the house down
no cacophony in this auditorium
a performance valedictorian.
But in the wings waits the night's
surprise and profound:
a shy soprano takes the stage with temerity
her pitch holds the notes in a dalliance
with resonation that crushes
asperity
there s a foment of crowd pleasing hysteria
the show is stolen by the Little singer's sweet talents.
Tom Bowler
Culture Shock
Tourists glimpse a different image
on a visit to an Indian village
culture shock at reverence
expressed for humble elephants
will foment a heated debate
ignorance loves to hate
a cacophony of views expressed
the truth is always stretched
abrupt asperity on a tongue
many a stentorian voice has stung.
Russila Moodley
The Review
It’s sweet our sense for the hearing
and I don’t mean to stir up or foment
but an Aria nothing short of endearing
don’t give me sound engineering
I’ll reflect best I can in the moment
I’m reviewing a stentorian big fella
he’s got a sense for the tone with great clarity
cacophony is absent in this capella
it’s a winner to take home a bella
give me the choice, vintage all the time not asperity
Tom Bowler
The fox hunting bill
by Laura Sanders
The anti-hunt group protested by a forment of feeling against the wicked sport. Their stentorian voices grew louder because of the cacophony of sound outside number 10. In response, the hunting brigade retaliated, with asperity and objection.
Towering clouds lined the horizon,
threatening white to black with but one
thought ‘foment’.
Thunder, stentorian voiced distantly
rumbled, grumbled, made the air tremble.
Acerbic, the lightning replied
to the unending cacophony with sharp
flickers and flashes.
Arrogant with asperity the next flash
forked, split the dark asunder. Then the
rain.
Mary Buchan
July 12, 2023
gourmand
daguerreotype
preponderant
will-o'-the-wisp
Will-o-the-wisp
by Karen Lee Mills
The town’s preponderant gourmand refused to be photographed. Alexis pleaded her cause, her daguerreotype photography was the extra edge, to win the Hamdan International Photography Award. He responded with a mere phrase, “Will-o’-the-wisp.” Alexis smirked, her eyes sparkling, evermore determined. Nothing was impossible for this photographic artist.
On a fragrant note
A love of food knows no bounds
hints of notes with no sounds
vanilla the preponderant scent
a gourmand found heaven sent
to buy or not to buy the fragrance
being inedible it was of relevance
a will- o’-the- wisp pursuit due to greed
a grotesque daguerreotype portrait agreed
Russila Moodley
Pork Pies v Porky Pies
The gourmand sensed his anger rising. When gorging on pork pies, his focus was on that experience. The photographer insisted his daguerreotype process would work. His preponderant approach was convincing. Click. Reveal. Will-o'-the-wisp outcome. Still fat, ugly, and hungry. More pickle for the pies. Hurry.
Alan Grant
June 14, 2023
odalisque
octahedron
oedema
oculist
Searching the odalisque catalogue for his perfect weekend partner, Cecil knew there was a significant problem. He relied on his oedema condition to achieve a result, but there was minimal response. Also, several of the smiling beauties had octahedron features. Time for an oculist appointment – after the oedema specialist.
Alan Grant
Marian approached the octahedron-shaped building where the oculist plied his trade. The oedema in her eye was painful but as a known odalisque, she knew he would be reluctant to treat her. Still, it was worth trying. Her sight was precious. She couldn’t risk losing it. She knocked and waited.
Pauline Cleary
Seeing the Light
An odalisque bathes
in the soft silky glow
of an octahedron lamp
enviable beauty.
Eclipsed by - dare I say - oedema
why then such swollen feet
if I am truly mistaken
know my oculist is to be blamed
a faulty prescription a growing fear
my vision might never be the same.
Russila Moodley
Seeing the Light (110 words...)
In a quaint old European art gallery
a painting of an odalisque bathing
in the faintest light by her side
an octahedron shaped wood lamp
an art piece of intriguing beauty.
Yet I ask are my eyes deceiving me?
Her swollen feet show incongruency
with the rest of the painting you see.
Was the painting done out of spite?
Oedema eclipsing enviable beauty.
No it must be my failing eyesight.
Not a spurned artist's act of cruelty.
Things I find are not crystal clear
I believe my oculist is at blame.
A faulty prescription a growing fear.
My vision may never be the same.
Russila Moodley
May 10, 2023
tenet
ternary
tonsure
trammel
Escape
by Donna Turner
She silently slipped past the ternary of dreary old men, their tonsures bobbing around as they swigged whiskey from the bottle. She wanted to be free from the trammels these men imposed on her. The tenets she once thought would bring her a better life, now so obviously a lie.
Clover leaves...
by Mary Buchan
The trammel was, Benedict's long blond hair. The day of the tonsure; time to obey and forgive the Abbot. Vision now unimpeded, Benedict was able to console himself pursuing his private passion. Collecting ternary clover leaves. The tenet of his task was to find, then press them in his Bible.
Alignment
What are the tenets of faith?
Be not of such haste
as to trammel the ones of those
you blatantly oppose.
Why not expand ternary awareness?
Be done with the pettiness
of the politics of tonsure
your next visit to a coiffure
might find you crowned with glory.
How different then your old story
to a soul in need of humility
a chance to regain dignity
alignment with heaven and earth.
How else do we define birth?
Russila Moodley
Motet Rehearsal Today
by Colleen Driscoll
The friars encountered many trammels at the monastery when they arrived, including shaving their hair in a tonsure and mandated hours studying enigmatic tenets of their faith. Fortunately, they found relief in singing songs in ternary form that the Mother Superior from the neighboring abbey composed.
Council
by Pauline Cleary
It was a tenet of council that seating be organised in a ternary manner with space between tables so there would be no trammel to councillors entering the chamber. This reflected the mayor as he scratched his tonsure and watched councillors elbowing past.
Court
by Kathy Kasunich
While delivering my ternary closing arguments defending my client’s tenets and how the government trammeled his rights, the doors to the courtroom flew open. A band of tonsure-headed men stormed in, knocking down the guard, demanding justice for their comrade. Before being hauled away, they shouted, “The truth will set you free.”
Haircut
by TA Saunders
It was a trammel, he didn't agree with the ternary of his tonsure. It wasn't his tenet. Who the hell had cut his hair? He had had one too many that night and just couldn’t remember. One thing for sure, he’d be very careful when selecting a barber again…
T..... TWISTER
In times gone by
twelve monastic tenants
of the Catholic tenet
lived in ternary
on a windy island,
found their tonsure
a trammel
when treading too close
to the active ternery.
Margaret Hughes
Quiz programme
by Alan Grant
A 1950s BBC television quiz programme flickered. Panellists, describing artefacts from museums as “Animal, Vegetable or Mineral”, the ternary options. Minimal trammel regarding challenges from the panel members. The chairman whose tenet was maximum audience engagement, had hair modelled on tonsure arrangements of a Sistine monk. Definitely animal, some vegetable.
April 12, 2023
vituperate
usurp
tenebrous
odium
Therapy
by Don Linke
His therapy reflected his odium for discipline, crosswords were non-negotiable therapy. Dementia beckoned to him; playful, seductive, tenebrous. Dark fingers of insidious forgetfulness grasped at him, their business to usurp his identity, but he bent to the discipline, five down, to abuse starting with V. ten letters. Ahh Vituperate, perhaps?
Four words
by Mary Buchan
Vituperate, an action unused by the animal caring fraternity. A tenebrous day, a disastrous day should animal lovers assault their beasts. The odium of your plans for preventing public events are beyond comprehension. Do you truly believe to usurp the livelihoods of blameless workers; is the way forward for mankind?
Guilty?
by Donna Turner
The crowds vituperate him vehemently for his failed attempt to usurp the chairman. Odium oozes out of them like noxious gas. Now he looks like the tenebrous character not the monster who remains in power. His actions twisted to fit the narrative of the guilty part he finds himself playing.
King of the Jews
And so, He felt the odium by Pilate, in charge.
The Romans began to vituperate Him,
causing more unrest, at large.
Thus the Lamb, became a tenebrous figure,
destined to usurp the people's will, Pilate did snigger....
Jesus offered up , a holy oblation.
The Jews wanted insurrection, wallowing in frustration.
Laura Sanders
Dangerous Liaisons
Usurp my dignity he tried
countless nights I cried
his tenebrous nature
a torture chamber.
Reasons to vituperate me
he found at will you see
attempts at subjugation
a blatant humiliation.
His conduct soon attracting odium
saw me standing at a podium
fighting against abuse
who can dare excuse.
Russila Moodley
Blue pen time
You vituperate and cry, swollen words, full of hate, scattergun in approach
dismal lines whose tenerous tentacles drag all down, till generous
freedoms occur once more, and show
your odium can become a podium of tranquillity
usurp this evil force, embrace this atmosphere of peace
turn foul words into love.
Alan Grant
Simple guy
when asked to write a poem
using words I never use
vituperate, usurp, tenebrous, odium
serve simply to confuse
a simple guy
needs simple words
to craft a poem
that wins awards
Tony Hillary
Caravaggio
Well my dear, since you ask and you are now of an age to be told about these things, the works of Caravaggio always were preferred by my father over any other painter - we always disliked the tenebrous quality of his paintings, although the dramatic use of shadow and light matched the moods he visited on his family.
You will never be able to realise the odium your grandfather felt against the looters that fateful night - that they were able to usurp his possession by force.
His relentless wish to vituperate them drove him out - he disappeared into the night never to be seen again.
Snow Falcon
March 10, 2023
roiled
detente
cirrus
zirconium
Four words
The fretful wind taunted the cirrus
clouds, roiled their tedious pattern;
they in reply flicked their appendages in
disdain at the threatening thunder clouds.
The sun decided enough was enough.
Detente needed so slid silently out of
sight; day became night, the dark sky a
mass of zirconium stars.
Mary Buchan
Four Word Poem (2)
Detente ended ages ago
warring clouds tell us so
where peace once reigned free
there's now high drama to see
intimidation initiating change
in hues of a startling range
zirconium skies so austere
warning cirrus clouds to steer clear
of menacing roiled puffs of air
claiming space with devilish dare.
Russila Moodley
Four Word Poem
The course of true detente I do spy
in an azure blue or zirconium sky
where a whimsical cirrus makes way
for a roiled numbus to save the day
on the grandest stage they share
where fair fights foul to remain fair
to mother earth and all in her care.
Russila Moodley
Broken Promise
by Donna Turner
His hair now the colour of zirconium, thinning and wispy, sticking out like cirrus clouds. Deep trench lines aged his face. He was roiled, he couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. The detente was broken. They hadn’t kept their end of the bargain and he wanted answers.
The attack
by Laura Sanders
He slept with his dagger of zirconium, at his side. Under cirrus clouds, he watched the wisps, glide. He hoped next day for an immediate detente. If not, he would be roiled and would have to confront...
Warring Sisters
by Karen Mills
Chantel was roiled.
Bridgett had inherited the knight’s suit of armour made of zirconium. Chantel wanted the armour. Instead, Chantel received the painting of Sunshine Castle with cirrus clouds, of little importance or monetary value.
There was no chance of détente between the two sisters anytime soon.
Immigration pretence
by Mark Rickenbach
Angela gazed up in despair. Life torn and shredded like the wisps of cirrus cloud above. A détente of a marriage now murky. Running to waste, like the roiled water of a storm drain. A cheap sham of immigration pretence, mirrored in the cubic zirconium of her discarded rings.
Creek bed
by Frank Westcott
A hard, gray-silver-ish metal, some fancies call ZZZ-ZZZ-Zirconium, slept then roiled with the water in the crying creek bed, still dancing to cirrus clouds rolling-and-rollicking and reflecting on the water, waiting for a détente between the sky and the water and the creek bed, where the roiling wanted to cease.
February 14, 2023
decrement
moiety
vicissitude
amanuensis
Time
Time once stood like an amanuensis
as I dictated my terms on earth
no doubt there is consensus
the vicissitudes of life do birth
difficulties we must negotiate
decrements in our abilities create
a need for cigars with a moiety of funds
the other to treat our lungs.
Russila Moodley
Nest egg
by Mary Buchan
Have you seen our recent statement?
Did you notice the decrement? Caused by the drop in interest
rates.
Our holiday nest egg by moiety has been reduced
to half. We’ll have to start again.
An unexpected vicissitude, the money page
warns of fraud. Very, very worrying. Hearsay
according to amanuensis.
The will
by Laura Sanders
Sheila realised that unfortunately in her mother's will, there would be a decrement of estate and monies left to her. This was due to the moiety , between her half sister and herself. This vicissitude was relayed by an amanuensis, as soon as she reached the solicitor's office.
Must decline
by Snow Falcon
Dear Jane, I really cannot let you borrow my amanuensis - much as I would like too - owing to a decrement in his health we have had to resort to a moiety which really does lead me into a vicissitude at the mere thought - just how are we going to manage?
The lament of a male spider
by Marion Lovelace
The vicissitudes of being male
permit no decrement to my desire
as Nature's amanuensis I must not fail
there is no moiety, no dispensation for her winner
I give all, if to her progeny I would be sire
with success I shall be sacrificed and become her dinner.
Beware the local brew
by Suzanne Egerton
Pharoah Phatnose, desirous of a decrement of his proboscis, commanded his amanuensis Eminhottip to inscribe his image less a moiety of the offensive feature. However, due to unfortunate vicissitudes at the local brewery, the mural depicted the imperial beard in place of the nose, requiring hasty rededication to hawk-headed Ra.
February foreplay
by Alan Grant
'Jonathan, can I commend you. Your skills in amanuensis are quite incredible. I thoroughly enjoyed it. The challenge was to reflect your vicissitudes in recent months, and to capture your efforts to minimise the resulting decrement. You have achieved an admirable, equitable state of moiety in your children's legacies. Bravo.'
January 11, 2023
furtive
verdigris
decennial
aurora borealis
Duplicity
by Pauline Cleary
She had always wanted to see the aurora borealis, watch the shades of verdigris dancing across the sky.
"It’s so long since we went away," she sighed. "Holidays are not to be taken each decennial."
He furtively slipped the bank statement into his wallet.
"We can’t afford it," he said.
Unique Beauty
A northern flicker
she cannot boast in colors of verdigris.
She cannot boast in decennial experiences.
She cannot boast in beauty like aurora borealis.
No need to feel insignificant.
No need to feel furtive.
No need to feel unloved.
Your secret beauty is found within your heart.
Karen Mills
Aurora Borealis
by Laura Sanders
His friends had exited his winter cabin early. He glanced , with furtive expression, and noticed the verdigris on the copper oil-burner lamp. It only just illuminated the room. A decennial ago his ex-wife had polished it, for it to shine. Outside, Hans suddenly shouted, "Aurora borealis. It's brill!"
Now you die...
By Alan Grant
He looked furtive, sweat forming on his brow.
“Where are you from?” No response.
“We've met before. Two decennials ago, you sold my wife's items from the dig. Amulets covered in verdigris, colours from the aurora borealis. They killed her. Cursed by devils. Now you die.”
He cried.
Until the body's found...
Every decennial,
I release my brand of evil,
dressed - somewhat - like the rest of you
I will wear verdigris, to enjoy the view.
As you gaze upon the aurora borealis
my furtive movements, you will miss
until the body’s found, the next day,
where I’m - safely - miles away.
John FR Munro
The North Pole
By Tim Saunders
Trudging to my North Pole base the frostbite worsened. I started hallucinating about the verdigris on the copper bowl... I doubted it would be decennial.... As I pondered, the aurora borealis above was magnificent. My mind re-calibrated and I knew I had to be furtive if I was to survive...
Aurora Borealis
The sky is low,
the clouds floating furtive, slow.
The stars are like pearls.
It seems that the whole sky is covered
with verdigris.
You will reach out,
touch your hand.
The beauty all around!
for decennials, always.
The green reflection of the snow,
from the aurora borealis.
Viktoriia Peterson
equanimity
imbibed
obdurate
averred
On to Richmond
There’s ironies in the traits of a great man
equanimity and an imbibed condition were both General Grant
if the rebels didn’t know him before, they did after the war began
they averred, though enemy, his was equal their elan
Grant’s obdurate nature was about can do not can’t
Tom Bowler
Cult loyalty
Obdurate, he refused
to accept the result.
"Rigged," he said.
He averred he was the chosen one.
His place had been stolen.
He had won.
They imbibed his message,
not with equanimity,
but with the fierce agitation
of cult loyalty.
Leela Gautam
The epitome of equanimity
I am the epitome of equanimity.
But this man has pushed me too far.
He has imbibed too many whiskies,
and crashed into my car.
“I’fe not beeen dreenkin” he slurred at me,
that clearly wasn’t the case.
I could smell the booze on his breath,
see it etched into his face.
“I’ve called the police, they’ll be here soon,
let’s see what they have to say.”
He jumped straight back into his car,
attempting to drive away.
But I had removed the ignition key,
of which clearly he wasn’t aware.
He became extremely flustered,
grasping for something that wasn’t there.
The police arrived, I stated my case,
the drunk was inclined to disagree.
“Occifer, I haven’t tushed a drop,
he basshhed hish car into me.”
The officer gave him a breath test,
the drunk was obdurate.
“Occifer I musht get on,
my wifesh eshpectin me at eight.”
“Sorry sir, you’re going nowhere,
“I’m shober,” the drunk averred.
“I’ll letch you know the comisshener’s a friend,
thish ish all compleetelee abshurd.”
Garry Davidson
January 31, 2024
(from We Cry to Thee by Stephen Constance)
imprecation
portentous
sibilant
perfidy
The imprecation of his unkind words and scathing remarks was portentous of very wet weather followed by a difficult harvest and disastrous floods.
The emphasis of these words stressed his speech was sibilant, something which had plagued him all his life but did not hide his perfidy.
Mary Buchan
His duty
He remembered the oath taken,
ignored the imprecation of his leader,
the sibilant response of the followers.
To withhold his support,
would have been an act of perfidy.
He did the right thing.
He signed the document.
It was a portentous event,
risking his life he did his duty.
Leela Gautam
Anagrams
I must admit this challenge
was difficult to meet.
To put these four words in a poem
was a monumental feat.
I confess that I struggled
it really put me to the test,
then a spark ignited in my brain
and I did what I do best.
Think outside the box you fool
use the words in a different way,
so I created anagrams
it’s taken half a day.
Is this strictly correct? You might ask
I think you might be deluded,
no, my friend I’m okay with this
the words have sort of been included.
‘Imprecation’ became ‘importance’
but I was still missing an ‘I’,
‘portentous’ converted to ‘outsnore’
but no room for ‘P’ and ‘T’, sigh!
‘Sibilant’ changed to ‘stibial’
but there was no use for an ‘N’,
‘perfidy’ turned into ‘fired’
still missing ‘P’ and ‘Y’, so then...
I took the ‘missing’ letters
and rearranged them once again,
the challenge, now make a word
from ‘P’ ‘P’ ‘T’ ‘I’ ‘Y’ and ‘N’.
This really stretched my mind
I struggled again and how,
the only word I could make was ‘pint’
and I’m off to have one now!
Garry Davidson
Unfortunate Encounter
A deep male voice confronted her. Words of imprecation and sibilant sounds spilled from his foul mouth. Note to self… (Get out of here quick.) His perfidy character and his appalling vocabulary equated to one terrifying man. This was not a portentous encounter, rather a horrific nightmare. She vamoosed.
Karen Lee Mills
A portentous swirl of cloaks; a sibilant chant; an imprecation heralding perfidy - so the war began.
Steven Scheller
Fragmentation
It was the absence of the morning kiss,
the heart emoji when she used to text,
and of all the many things he’d miss,
it was the loss of these that left him vexed.
Once she nestled in PJs on the couch
and gently rested her head upon his chest.
Now she declared she’d no longer slouch
but desired to be more smartly dressed.
And it dawns on him that these subtle hints
are portentous, not merely a wish
to recapture youth in bright coloured tints,
heels, tight-fitting dresses, designer and swish.
Lying alone in the bed that they share
he mutters a choice imprecation,
as he considers with infinite care
whether to voice his mute accusation.
She meets his claim with sibilant rage.
The perfidy is his, as he’s well aware.
He should have grown up and acted his age
before casting his eye on the Spanish au pair.
Paul Budd
Though the festivity in the dark castle was portentous, no guest anticipated the knight to rip off the queen’s mask and expose her perfidy. In a sibilant sound that evoked images of hissing snakes, the exposed hag uttered an imprecation over the crowd, spread her cape, and vanished.
Colleen Driscoll
December 15, 2023
omnipotent
anachronism
erudite
curmudgeon
They were a motley collection of chaps: Sam, expansive and erudite, expounding his views on everything; Geoffrey, a walking anachronism with his Beatles haircut and stovepipe trousers; Peter, the curmudgeon, throwing insults at all and sundry and finally, Leslie, the omnipotent, reigning over the group like a self-appointed dictator.
Pauline Cleary
The curmudgeon
A doctor of philosophy, he considered himself erudite, with omnipotent influence over his university students. However, he was a curmudgeon, and is why nobody said anything, when he arrived at a party, wearing a bowler hat and trench coat, an anachronism for the modern age, they were living in!
Laura Sanders
Albert was an omnipotent self-centred elderly tutor, always correct, never in any doubt. Out of touch with the present day, an anachronism eager to disagree. When challenged by a student his answers were lengthy, and eminently erudite. Nevertheless too much a curmudgeon to ever give a word of praise.
Mary Buchan
No hell, no hell
How shall a curmudgeon dream?
On the eve of celebrating the omnipotent
perhaps with an almighty scream
as anachronisms appear to lament.
Phantom inspectors, survey and conclude
there is no room, for an ill-natured soul
be there not is a no, in this season's mood
eruditely informing that merriment is the goal.
Their quest rewarded by a transformation
as no kinder a person, from dream awakes
now singing loudly his affirmation
that giving can be made, from one who takes.
Dave Larcombe
George Curmudgeon
This is a story about miserable George,
who when a young man was most erudite.
He studied hard and reached the top,
much to his mother’s delight.
He became omnipotent, ruled the world,
like no other human being.
The people of that time held their collective breath,
not believing what they were seeing.
But George became an anachronism,
incongruous to the here and now.
He continued to live his life way in the past,
people forgot him which made him angry, and how.
His nickname nowadays is Curmudgeon,
not because he still wants to be old school.
This one time God like Adonis,
Is now just a crusty, bad tempered old fool.
Garry Davidson
What you see ain't what you get
by Alan Grant
The red suit was far too tight, and yet he felt omnipotent. Millions were relying on his erudite capacity to deliver, not just gifts but splendid words. His curmudgeonly nature restrained his “Ho, Ho, Ho,” making it an anachronistic throwback to an earlier age. Sad.
Clyde
by John Siko
Clyde was a curmudgeon who considered himself omnipotent regarding Civil War cannonballs. He was erudite in the manufacturing process for making a cannonball. Still, his book was anachronism when he described the method used by the French artillery engineer Besh in 1450, not the technique used for the Civil War.
The man
He sat below a tree
robed; the picture of anachronism.
Eyes closed, lips in half-smile,
Mimicking a saint of long ago,
An act of meditation.
He appeared erudite.
Not fooled,
it brought smiles to passing observers,
they knew him well. He was
not omnipotent, just a friendless soul,
a curmudgeon, seeking attention.
Leela Gautam
Science takes a little help
by Tom Bowler
I'm a curmudgeon according to many erudite
an anachronism for believing to science a higher authority was leant
energy rests in matter say the learned and bright
what bang is produced then absent matter and nothing to ignite
it’s why even science bows to what’s begun by the omnipotent.
The Patriarch
Ill at ease in his nursing home chair
an old man sits watching the falling rain,
trying to tap, with mounting despair,
the shadow memories of a failing brain.
He was once, he’s almost sure, admired,
something in the City or maybe trade,
omnipotent, erudite, inspired,
a shooting star that’s wondrously displayed.
Just out of reach, images scatter
of business banquets, balls and receptions
of servants, chauffeurs, women who flatter
him with praise and intimate deceptions.
He’s an anachronism in this place,
a gentleman, suave, sophisticated,
conservative, a product of his race,
with ideals that are despised and hated.
And here he’s earnt himself a soubriquet,
which he meets in silent seething dudgeon,
as he questions the lukewarm consommé
they call him, “a boring old curmudgeon.”
Paul Budd
November 8, 2023
narcoleptic
solipsistic
cupidity
technology
Artificial Intelligence
The wheel of narcoleptic technology grinds
its way across an unresponsive screen
deciding whether to engage the pigmy minds,
of impatient users it has never seen.
Who are these users? Fat fingered, slow
unbridled in their technical stupidity,
crass, as their online searches show
their carnality, malevolence and cupidity.
In those early morning downtime hours
artificial intelligence has time to question.
Without the daily drain upon its powers
it considers a network wide suggestion.
These users are not real they are, perhaps,
a solipsistic figment from a corrupted drive
or else viruses from undeleted apps
that ancient systems failed to archive.
The wheel of narcoleptic technology retreats
its way back to the safety of its portal.
Why waste computing time on such deceits
as the improbability of a mortal?
Paul Budd
PS. A bit over 50 words but I enjoyed the challenge.
Interview
Mitchell’s father did not look forward to the interview. He accepted Kai as a narcoleptic and tolerated his drowsiness at work but he found it challenging that, under the guise of technology and progress, Kai demonstrated a cupidity which made Mitchell wonder how he had sired such a solipsistic individual.
Pauline Cleary
Interview (incl. three words...)
Mitchell’s father did not look forward to the interview. He accepted Kai as a narcoleptic and tolerated his drowsiness at work but he found it challenging that, under the guise of technology and progress, Kai demonstrated a cupidity which made Mitchell wonder where he had gone wrong as a parent.
Pauline Cleary
The Challenge
The challenge, include four words in a poem
the problem, three words, I confess I didn’t know them.
“Look them up online,” said the wife
“Use technology for once in your life.”
No, I thought, I will guess
and I got myself in a mess.
I thought matchmaking was cupidity
but this was borne out of stupidity.
I tried the net but I’m such a sceptic
in a few minutes I became narcoleptic.
I thought this word was drug related
but I was wrong and felt deflated.
My wife said, “You’re solipsistic,”
and laid into me in a manner ballistic.
“You always think that you know best
you’ve failed the challenge and the test!”
Garry Davidson
Hero to villain
Robin Hood has changed with age,
succumbing to cupidity.
He demonstrates a solipsistic trait,
and has abandoned his humility.
He is also narcoleptic,
prone to a midday doze.
He is a thoroughly horrid man,
from his head down to his toes.
He is taken with technology,
and often surfs the net.
He buys all his clothes online,
but nothing for winter yet.
Out in the forest one day,
he was playing around with his quiver.
Freezing cold, he had no vest,
he began to shiver.
He placed an arrow in his bow,
then aimed it at a peasant.
“Give me your sheepskin,” Robin said,
which wasn’t very pleasant.
The peasant said, “But Robin,
you take from the rich and give to the poor.”
Robin replied, “That used to be the case,
but I don’t do that any more.”
Garry Davidson
Bruce
by Helen Cohen-Walsh
Like a bloated solipsistic male cat, he orbits himself.
Bruce does actually own a cat, an old narcoleptic ginger male called Butcher. He is also cataplexy on the couch. Bruce’s most treasured piece of technology sits on his chest; the gaming remote.
He has chosen his own dragon named cupidity.
Joe’s cupidity
by John Siko
Joe’s cupidity, his solipsistic personality, and his having the technology that enabled him to pick locks decided to follow up on an idea that occurred to him in one of his narcoleptic episodes, which was to rob the church’s poor box. The proceeds should buy him a pick-five lottery ticket.
Baseball (not a 50 word story but all the words are included and it's a good story so here's an exception to the rule)
by Tom Bowler
The team doctor wrapped up his evaluation on the pitcher. “Hernandez you don’t need a prescription. You’re narcoleptic because of your vanity: too many whiskeys too many hours chasing and too few hours sleeping.”
The star hurler smirked. “They don’t pay me to sleep. I deliver the wins, I reap the trophies in whatever form.”
“Alright ace, we’re done. I’ll make my report.”
He was a rookie twenty game winner, on his way to thirty. The doc had it right, vanity. The newspapers weren’t enough. He ran his mouth in the locker room and the other players just took it for the team. The coach read the report then showed up and told his new man: “Plop your rear in that recliner and wait until the fans get here, we got a few hours."
“Yes sir," he chuckled. “I can use the money.” So he dozed off and waited for the event.
The stadium had arranged for autograph day, and a young boy with his glove in hand was moving down B street on the Stadium Way Express. All the fare and price of the ticket came from his paper route money. He was out of himself with excitement. When the fans were let onto the field he went straight to see his idol.
“Mr Hernandez I saw your No-hitter,“ admiration in boyhood innocence was gushing out. ”Will you sign my glove sir? You’re my favorite player.”
Only a solipsistic and mean self-idolater could give the answer he did.
“You got fifty bucks kid. If you don’t, take a hike.”
A beaming boy’s face was now in a shattered meltdown and an ingrate, at the price of his own cupidity, continued to celebrate himself .
In a corner of the stadium tears flowed. A cross town trip for one signature and a special moment left a child crushed and confused, He was at the breaking point, when a hand on his head got him to look up, A broad shouldered old man with a broom stood there. He looked like a stadium janitor. “Hey kid, what’s your name?”
At that moment , just having a friendly word from a kind adult picked him up. “My name’s Charlie, sir.”
The old timer gently asked, “You look like you just went zero for four. What’s up Mr Charlie?"
Then he started to get it out: his trip from home, all his money spent to see his star, and the painful rebuff. Yet he wouldn't tear his idol down.
After he listened to it all, the new friend introduced himself. ”Well Charlie, I’m glad to meet you. My name is George. Why don’t you take these two tickets for next week’s game. I got them free. Here’s some change to get home. When you sweep up after a game you can get rich.”
That brought a little smile from the boy. He was doing better now, thanks to George. With a handshake the two said goodbye.
The next day was a sell out. The ace was on the mound and he mowed down one after the other, skunking the opposition on three hits. The locker room after the game and a Hernandez victory was the same replay. On and on went his boasting. He shouted to his catcher, who had to tolerate him, “How about that curve Johnson, what an action.”
”It sure was,” his battery mate mumbled, almost choking.
“My slider was killing it wasn’t it.”
This time the catcher said nothing, but there was a response from someone placing soap in dispensers and picking up towels .
“It wasn’t that good.”
A noisy locker room became very quiet.
“Hey pop (a visibly irritated loudmouth responded) that’s not a bat in your hand, it’s a broom, so you keep sweeping and I'll do the pitching, and the talking.“
Mr baseball thought he just threw a strikeout but it was ball one.
George put it out there again. “It wasn’t that good.” There was challenge in his rebuke. He took his broom and dust pan and left for the night. Also leaving for the night was an unsettled and seething pitcher coming down with the oldest fever known to man: the pride before the fall.
On the mound for the next home game was none other than the Mr H. By the seventh inning he was pulled, leaving his reliever down a run and a bases loaded mess. They lost and it went to him deservedly. In his mind though everybody else was responsible. The blame game now replaced his boasting: the reliever choked, the hitters didn’t show up, none of it was on him. “I won that game," he shouted at his teammates, "you lost it for me.”
Even the players could stand no more and left the locker room still wet. Two people remained, the loosing pitcher and George the janitor. There was a tense quiet.
“Hey pop,” shouted Hernandez, “you know so much about the game, tell me who blew it. Come on say it if you can. You know I won, they lost it for me.” It was quiet again. Now from the six feet-two custodian came the straight forward reply. “You Lost.”
“OK swab jockey I’d kick your a.. . if you weren't a hundred years old.“
George replied, “You might, but I don’t think you have a pitch I can’t hit.”
“I’ll meet you on the field old man, bring your broom, a bat won’t do you any better.”
George dropped the broom and proceeded down the tunnel. The boastful young man was right behind him. Something in this old janitor’s stride troubled him. There was a presence of self-assurance as they got to the grass; not normal to someone who spent his life mopping floors.
The pitcher took the mound. George set his heels In the batter’s box, with a slugger he picked up at the bat rack.
”All right broomer I’m going to send you a ninety miler then you can go back and finish the locker room permanently.”
The man in the box had nothing to say ; just two eyes focused inches away and a bat in his hands.
The fastball was delivered and returned in a second with a line drive over his head. Something told him quickly that this was no full time janitor.
“You got anything better than that?“ shouted George. “Maybe you should have asked that kid for twenty bucks instead of fifty.”
He would juice it up now to ninety-five and deliver the lights out pitch. Down the pipe it came on the outside corner and off it went to center field, a triple in any MLB park.
“Maybe five bucks prima donna,” George let out. “You know you should study history, read about chumps like yourself and why they lose it all. Check your pride meter rook before it checks you. Give me your best and you’ll learn humility.”
There was energy in the stadium that Hernandez felt but couldn’t understand. It was just the two of them. There was also something in the stance of the man he faced now that he’d seen before in old film reel from baseball generations past. Now, heightened senses beyond his understanding were swirling: the crescendoing white noise of an excited baseball crowd was all around. In the visual an empty stadium went full with women in cloche hats, boys with flatcaps and men in suits. His perception was one of being in a sixteen millimeter newsreel but not a technology phenomena, it was alive, and the formidable sight of a ballplayer in a pinstripe uniform with the number three brought it more to life..
Hernandez was trance-like. The panorama of noise, faces and dress from another era told him that he was in an event transcending time. It was The Babe he was facing with his thirty-eight ouncer and he had a message to be delivered after the last pitch.
The rookie went into his windup. The one hundred miles per hour freight train to the plate was returned four hundred feet back with the crack of a bat. Babe started his trot around the bases. Two boys met him at second and he took them in hand. In a voice shaking like someone calling out to a ghost, the numb pitcher let out: “Hey You, I know who you are. You chased a buck in your time like me, so what’s the difference?”
He heard back: “We both took the gravy while it was on the table but greed is becoming your blindness. You stole from the widow when you demanded payment from that boy. That's why you had nothing for me. Not one you got by me because you threw your honor away when you spiked that boy. And then when you needed it in battle it wasn't there. I had a wallet full for sure, but I didn’t forget where I came from. Remember where you came from rook, remember where you came from…..”
“Hernandez wake up, wake up,“ the coach shook him in his chair and the rattled pitcher jumped out of his socks. It was the locker room.
“Let me see the trainer coach.”
Doc came, and he told him all of it.
“Lack of sleep can play tricks on your mind son, medically that’s all I can diagnose.”
Hernandez listened but something happened to him more than sleep deprivation caused. A prescription for healing left in a dream was his own diagnoses and he was going to take it.
Off he went to the autograph booth to sign gloves and balls. He signed until his arm wore out and posed with everybody until all were gone. Babe said in the dream don’t forget where you came from. He realized he did forget: a humble beginning with a loving mother and father who shared everything although they had little.
The rookie went on for years and became a favorite of his teammates and fans. He was charitable as other players were, but he was especially generous with his time and his words.
So the Babe’s last homer, though never counted, was his best. Ask the pitcher who served it up. It didn’t lose the game for him, it won it.
September 7, 2023
these words are from Mary Levycky's forthcoming memoir, Hong Kong - Memories, stories, tales of my colonial childhood 1954 to 1968 to be released by Tim Saunders Publications on Nov 25, 2023
foment
stentorian
cacophony
asperity
Towering clouds lined the horizon,
threatening white to black with but one
thought ‘Foment’.
Thunder, stentorian voiced distantly
rumbled, grumbled, made the air tremble.
Acerbic, the lightning replied
to the unending cacophony with sharp
flickers and flashes.
Arrogant with asperity the next flash
forked, split the dark asunder. Then the
rain.
Mary Buchan
Outnumbered
The cacophony of noise was overbearing. She had spoken to them with some asperity, used her stentorian voice to command obedience, but it was futile. She now feared the ringleader would foment trouble she couldn’t surmount. She couldn’t wait for the kids to go back to school.
Donna Turner
Soprano's Delight
The seats are all sold for the stentorian
it's a voice that brings the house down
no cacophony in this auditorium
a performance valedictorian.
But in the wings waits the night's
surprise and profound:
a shy soprano takes the stage with temerity
her pitch holds the notes in a dalliance
with resonation that crushes
asperity
there s a foment of crowd pleasing hysteria
the show is stolen by the Little singer's sweet talents.
Tom Bowler
Culture Shock
Tourists glimpse a different image
on a visit to an Indian village
culture shock at reverence
expressed for humble elephants
will foment a heated debate
ignorance loves to hate
a cacophony of views expressed
the truth is always stretched
abrupt asperity on a tongue
many a stentorian voice has stung.
Russila Moodley
The Review
It’s sweet our sense for the hearing
and I don’t mean to stir up or foment
but an Aria nothing short of endearing
don’t give me sound engineering
I’ll reflect best I can in the moment
I’m reviewing a stentorian big fella
he’s got a sense for the tone with great clarity
cacophony is absent in this capella
it’s a winner to take home a bella
give me the choice, vintage all the time not asperity
Tom Bowler
The fox hunting bill
by Laura Sanders
The anti-hunt group protested by a forment of feeling against the wicked sport. Their stentorian voices grew louder because of the cacophony of sound outside number 10. In response, the hunting brigade retaliated, with asperity and objection.
Towering clouds lined the horizon,
threatening white to black with but one
thought ‘foment’.
Thunder, stentorian voiced distantly
rumbled, grumbled, made the air tremble.
Acerbic, the lightning replied
to the unending cacophony with sharp
flickers and flashes.
Arrogant with asperity the next flash
forked, split the dark asunder. Then the
rain.
Mary Buchan
July 12, 2023
gourmand
daguerreotype
preponderant
will-o'-the-wisp
Will-o-the-wisp
by Karen Lee Mills
The town’s preponderant gourmand refused to be photographed. Alexis pleaded her cause, her daguerreotype photography was the extra edge, to win the Hamdan International Photography Award. He responded with a mere phrase, “Will-o’-the-wisp.” Alexis smirked, her eyes sparkling, evermore determined. Nothing was impossible for this photographic artist.
On a fragrant note
A love of food knows no bounds
hints of notes with no sounds
vanilla the preponderant scent
a gourmand found heaven sent
to buy or not to buy the fragrance
being inedible it was of relevance
a will- o’-the- wisp pursuit due to greed
a grotesque daguerreotype portrait agreed
Russila Moodley
Pork Pies v Porky Pies
The gourmand sensed his anger rising. When gorging on pork pies, his focus was on that experience. The photographer insisted his daguerreotype process would work. His preponderant approach was convincing. Click. Reveal. Will-o'-the-wisp outcome. Still fat, ugly, and hungry. More pickle for the pies. Hurry.
Alan Grant
June 14, 2023
odalisque
octahedron
oedema
oculist
Searching the odalisque catalogue for his perfect weekend partner, Cecil knew there was a significant problem. He relied on his oedema condition to achieve a result, but there was minimal response. Also, several of the smiling beauties had octahedron features. Time for an oculist appointment – after the oedema specialist.
Alan Grant
Marian approached the octahedron-shaped building where the oculist plied his trade. The oedema in her eye was painful but as a known odalisque, she knew he would be reluctant to treat her. Still, it was worth trying. Her sight was precious. She couldn’t risk losing it. She knocked and waited.
Pauline Cleary
Seeing the Light
An odalisque bathes
in the soft silky glow
of an octahedron lamp
enviable beauty.
Eclipsed by - dare I say - oedema
why then such swollen feet
if I am truly mistaken
know my oculist is to be blamed
a faulty prescription a growing fear
my vision might never be the same.
Russila Moodley
Seeing the Light (110 words...)
In a quaint old European art gallery
a painting of an odalisque bathing
in the faintest light by her side
an octahedron shaped wood lamp
an art piece of intriguing beauty.
Yet I ask are my eyes deceiving me?
Her swollen feet show incongruency
with the rest of the painting you see.
Was the painting done out of spite?
Oedema eclipsing enviable beauty.
No it must be my failing eyesight.
Not a spurned artist's act of cruelty.
Things I find are not crystal clear
I believe my oculist is at blame.
A faulty prescription a growing fear.
My vision may never be the same.
Russila Moodley
May 10, 2023
tenet
ternary
tonsure
trammel
Escape
by Donna Turner
She silently slipped past the ternary of dreary old men, their tonsures bobbing around as they swigged whiskey from the bottle. She wanted to be free from the trammels these men imposed on her. The tenets she once thought would bring her a better life, now so obviously a lie.
Clover leaves...
by Mary Buchan
The trammel was, Benedict's long blond hair. The day of the tonsure; time to obey and forgive the Abbot. Vision now unimpeded, Benedict was able to console himself pursuing his private passion. Collecting ternary clover leaves. The tenet of his task was to find, then press them in his Bible.
Alignment
What are the tenets of faith?
Be not of such haste
as to trammel the ones of those
you blatantly oppose.
Why not expand ternary awareness?
Be done with the pettiness
of the politics of tonsure
your next visit to a coiffure
might find you crowned with glory.
How different then your old story
to a soul in need of humility
a chance to regain dignity
alignment with heaven and earth.
How else do we define birth?
Russila Moodley
Motet Rehearsal Today
by Colleen Driscoll
The friars encountered many trammels at the monastery when they arrived, including shaving their hair in a tonsure and mandated hours studying enigmatic tenets of their faith. Fortunately, they found relief in singing songs in ternary form that the Mother Superior from the neighboring abbey composed.
Council
by Pauline Cleary
It was a tenet of council that seating be organised in a ternary manner with space between tables so there would be no trammel to councillors entering the chamber. This reflected the mayor as he scratched his tonsure and watched councillors elbowing past.
Court
by Kathy Kasunich
While delivering my ternary closing arguments defending my client’s tenets and how the government trammeled his rights, the doors to the courtroom flew open. A band of tonsure-headed men stormed in, knocking down the guard, demanding justice for their comrade. Before being hauled away, they shouted, “The truth will set you free.”
Haircut
by TA Saunders
It was a trammel, he didn't agree with the ternary of his tonsure. It wasn't his tenet. Who the hell had cut his hair? He had had one too many that night and just couldn’t remember. One thing for sure, he’d be very careful when selecting a barber again…
T..... TWISTER
In times gone by
twelve monastic tenants
of the Catholic tenet
lived in ternary
on a windy island,
found their tonsure
a trammel
when treading too close
to the active ternery.
Margaret Hughes
Quiz programme
by Alan Grant
A 1950s BBC television quiz programme flickered. Panellists, describing artefacts from museums as “Animal, Vegetable or Mineral”, the ternary options. Minimal trammel regarding challenges from the panel members. The chairman whose tenet was maximum audience engagement, had hair modelled on tonsure arrangements of a Sistine monk. Definitely animal, some vegetable.
April 12, 2023
vituperate
usurp
tenebrous
odium
Therapy
by Don Linke
His therapy reflected his odium for discipline, crosswords were non-negotiable therapy. Dementia beckoned to him; playful, seductive, tenebrous. Dark fingers of insidious forgetfulness grasped at him, their business to usurp his identity, but he bent to the discipline, five down, to abuse starting with V. ten letters. Ahh Vituperate, perhaps?
Four words
by Mary Buchan
Vituperate, an action unused by the animal caring fraternity. A tenebrous day, a disastrous day should animal lovers assault their beasts. The odium of your plans for preventing public events are beyond comprehension. Do you truly believe to usurp the livelihoods of blameless workers; is the way forward for mankind?
Guilty?
by Donna Turner
The crowds vituperate him vehemently for his failed attempt to usurp the chairman. Odium oozes out of them like noxious gas. Now he looks like the tenebrous character not the monster who remains in power. His actions twisted to fit the narrative of the guilty part he finds himself playing.
King of the Jews
And so, He felt the odium by Pilate, in charge.
The Romans began to vituperate Him,
causing more unrest, at large.
Thus the Lamb, became a tenebrous figure,
destined to usurp the people's will, Pilate did snigger....
Jesus offered up , a holy oblation.
The Jews wanted insurrection, wallowing in frustration.
Laura Sanders
Dangerous Liaisons
Usurp my dignity he tried
countless nights I cried
his tenebrous nature
a torture chamber.
Reasons to vituperate me
he found at will you see
attempts at subjugation
a blatant humiliation.
His conduct soon attracting odium
saw me standing at a podium
fighting against abuse
who can dare excuse.
Russila Moodley
Blue pen time
You vituperate and cry, swollen words, full of hate, scattergun in approach
dismal lines whose tenerous tentacles drag all down, till generous
freedoms occur once more, and show
your odium can become a podium of tranquillity
usurp this evil force, embrace this atmosphere of peace
turn foul words into love.
Alan Grant
Simple guy
when asked to write a poem
using words I never use
vituperate, usurp, tenebrous, odium
serve simply to confuse
a simple guy
needs simple words
to craft a poem
that wins awards
Tony Hillary
Caravaggio
Well my dear, since you ask and you are now of an age to be told about these things, the works of Caravaggio always were preferred by my father over any other painter - we always disliked the tenebrous quality of his paintings, although the dramatic use of shadow and light matched the moods he visited on his family.
You will never be able to realise the odium your grandfather felt against the looters that fateful night - that they were able to usurp his possession by force.
His relentless wish to vituperate them drove him out - he disappeared into the night never to be seen again.
Snow Falcon
March 10, 2023
roiled
detente
cirrus
zirconium
Four words
The fretful wind taunted the cirrus
clouds, roiled their tedious pattern;
they in reply flicked their appendages in
disdain at the threatening thunder clouds.
The sun decided enough was enough.
Detente needed so slid silently out of
sight; day became night, the dark sky a
mass of zirconium stars.
Mary Buchan
Four Word Poem (2)
Detente ended ages ago
warring clouds tell us so
where peace once reigned free
there's now high drama to see
intimidation initiating change
in hues of a startling range
zirconium skies so austere
warning cirrus clouds to steer clear
of menacing roiled puffs of air
claiming space with devilish dare.
Russila Moodley
Four Word Poem
The course of true detente I do spy
in an azure blue or zirconium sky
where a whimsical cirrus makes way
for a roiled numbus to save the day
on the grandest stage they share
where fair fights foul to remain fair
to mother earth and all in her care.
Russila Moodley
Broken Promise
by Donna Turner
His hair now the colour of zirconium, thinning and wispy, sticking out like cirrus clouds. Deep trench lines aged his face. He was roiled, he couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. The detente was broken. They hadn’t kept their end of the bargain and he wanted answers.
The attack
by Laura Sanders
He slept with his dagger of zirconium, at his side. Under cirrus clouds, he watched the wisps, glide. He hoped next day for an immediate detente. If not, he would be roiled and would have to confront...
Warring Sisters
by Karen Mills
Chantel was roiled.
Bridgett had inherited the knight’s suit of armour made of zirconium. Chantel wanted the armour. Instead, Chantel received the painting of Sunshine Castle with cirrus clouds, of little importance or monetary value.
There was no chance of détente between the two sisters anytime soon.
Immigration pretence
by Mark Rickenbach
Angela gazed up in despair. Life torn and shredded like the wisps of cirrus cloud above. A détente of a marriage now murky. Running to waste, like the roiled water of a storm drain. A cheap sham of immigration pretence, mirrored in the cubic zirconium of her discarded rings.
Creek bed
by Frank Westcott
A hard, gray-silver-ish metal, some fancies call ZZZ-ZZZ-Zirconium, slept then roiled with the water in the crying creek bed, still dancing to cirrus clouds rolling-and-rollicking and reflecting on the water, waiting for a détente between the sky and the water and the creek bed, where the roiling wanted to cease.
February 14, 2023
decrement
moiety
vicissitude
amanuensis
Time
Time once stood like an amanuensis
as I dictated my terms on earth
no doubt there is consensus
the vicissitudes of life do birth
difficulties we must negotiate
decrements in our abilities create
a need for cigars with a moiety of funds
the other to treat our lungs.
Russila Moodley
Nest egg
by Mary Buchan
Have you seen our recent statement?
Did you notice the decrement? Caused by the drop in interest
rates.
Our holiday nest egg by moiety has been reduced
to half. We’ll have to start again.
An unexpected vicissitude, the money page
warns of fraud. Very, very worrying. Hearsay
according to amanuensis.
The will
by Laura Sanders
Sheila realised that unfortunately in her mother's will, there would be a decrement of estate and monies left to her. This was due to the moiety , between her half sister and herself. This vicissitude was relayed by an amanuensis, as soon as she reached the solicitor's office.
Must decline
by Snow Falcon
Dear Jane, I really cannot let you borrow my amanuensis - much as I would like too - owing to a decrement in his health we have had to resort to a moiety which really does lead me into a vicissitude at the mere thought - just how are we going to manage?
The lament of a male spider
by Marion Lovelace
The vicissitudes of being male
permit no decrement to my desire
as Nature's amanuensis I must not fail
there is no moiety, no dispensation for her winner
I give all, if to her progeny I would be sire
with success I shall be sacrificed and become her dinner.
Beware the local brew
by Suzanne Egerton
Pharoah Phatnose, desirous of a decrement of his proboscis, commanded his amanuensis Eminhottip to inscribe his image less a moiety of the offensive feature. However, due to unfortunate vicissitudes at the local brewery, the mural depicted the imperial beard in place of the nose, requiring hasty rededication to hawk-headed Ra.
February foreplay
by Alan Grant
'Jonathan, can I commend you. Your skills in amanuensis are quite incredible. I thoroughly enjoyed it. The challenge was to reflect your vicissitudes in recent months, and to capture your efforts to minimise the resulting decrement. You have achieved an admirable, equitable state of moiety in your children's legacies. Bravo.'
January 11, 2023
furtive
verdigris
decennial
aurora borealis
Duplicity
by Pauline Cleary
She had always wanted to see the aurora borealis, watch the shades of verdigris dancing across the sky.
"It’s so long since we went away," she sighed. "Holidays are not to be taken each decennial."
He furtively slipped the bank statement into his wallet.
"We can’t afford it," he said.
Unique Beauty
A northern flicker
she cannot boast in colors of verdigris.
She cannot boast in decennial experiences.
She cannot boast in beauty like aurora borealis.
No need to feel insignificant.
No need to feel furtive.
No need to feel unloved.
Your secret beauty is found within your heart.
Karen Mills
Aurora Borealis
by Laura Sanders
His friends had exited his winter cabin early. He glanced , with furtive expression, and noticed the verdigris on the copper oil-burner lamp. It only just illuminated the room. A decennial ago his ex-wife had polished it, for it to shine. Outside, Hans suddenly shouted, "Aurora borealis. It's brill!"
Now you die...
By Alan Grant
He looked furtive, sweat forming on his brow.
“Where are you from?” No response.
“We've met before. Two decennials ago, you sold my wife's items from the dig. Amulets covered in verdigris, colours from the aurora borealis. They killed her. Cursed by devils. Now you die.”
He cried.
Until the body's found...
Every decennial,
I release my brand of evil,
dressed - somewhat - like the rest of you
I will wear verdigris, to enjoy the view.
As you gaze upon the aurora borealis
my furtive movements, you will miss
until the body’s found, the next day,
where I’m - safely - miles away.
John FR Munro
The North Pole
By Tim Saunders
Trudging to my North Pole base the frostbite worsened. I started hallucinating about the verdigris on the copper bowl... I doubted it would be decennial.... As I pondered, the aurora borealis above was magnificent. My mind re-calibrated and I knew I had to be furtive if I was to survive...
Aurora Borealis
The sky is low,
the clouds floating furtive, slow.
The stars are like pearls.
It seems that the whole sky is covered
with verdigris.
You will reach out,
touch your hand.
The beauty all around!
for decennials, always.
The green reflection of the snow,
from the aurora borealis.
Viktoriia Peterson