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A suggested idea is written below. Writers and poets are then invited to write up to a 500 word story or 15 line poem on it.
Submissions are initially published on this website and then in a book. Send your submissions to [email protected] and include Idea in the subject bar. They will be published on this page. In time they will feature in their own book. Good luck! |
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December 2024
Global deaths from euthanasia exceed 30,000 in a year.
They’ll be dreaming...
by Kamran Connelly
As the boardroom darkened and the projector lit up the white wall, the rumble of the prospective investors settled. A small select group of twenty of the most wealthy and powerful people had been gathered in secrecy to be presented with the newest project from a company most had never heard.
Drake Industrial, the leading military tech company on the planet, had a new division. A well-dressed middle aged man took the floor beneath the large display and a small spotlight illuminated him.
“Welcome dear investors, shareholders and dignitaries. Thank you for joining us this evening,” he said and began to slowly pace. He clicked a button, and the screen adopted the company logo for Drake industrial, a regal looking golden crest with a lion next to the letters DI. Then it faded to a picture of a stand-up machine that looked like a tanning booth with the words DREAM DIRECTION TECH.
“Gentlemen, recent studies have revealed that people choosing to end their lives by means of euthanasia are at an all-time high. Thirty thousand globally this year, and set to rise. It’s predicted that once laws relax people from the bottom end of society will choose to cease life rather than continue to struggle on. With predictions as high as five million within the next eight years. We intend to capitalise on this trend.”
A spattering of whispers and small chuckles came from the dark. And then a question.
“Capitalise how?”
“Our dream direction technology will put them into a perpetual dream state, of their choosing of course. The process is intended to be irreversible, so legally speaking they’ll be dead. The brain however will retain all the memories they want and continue in the version of dream that they’ve selected. The body retains full physical function and a small part of the brain will be reserved to respond to basic commands.”
“How does it work?” a voice asked from the darkness.
“Well, I’m afraid that’s confidential information. As always we must guard our technology closely. But, I assure you the procedure is painless. The patient simply steps inside of the machine and in thirty minutes the process is complete.”
“What’s it for?” asked another voice.
“At first, companionship. Menial tasks that need to be carried out for those who are incapable. Life expectancy of the wealthy is at an all-time high and set to hit one hundred years old in the near future. Our competitors think robots will fill these roles, but they fail to see the problem they will face. People can’t connect to machines. No matter how life-like they may be. Our product circumnavigates this issue.”
“You said at first. What then?” asked the voice.
“Well I don’t need to tell anyone in this room that Drake Industrial leads the world in conflict resolution technology. We of course see battlefield application.”
“Will they know they’re at war?” the voice asked.
“No. They’ll be dreaming...”
April 2024
Good news...
It depends on the perspective
by Kamran Connelly.
Gathered around a grand table, in the equally grand home of the Boddicker family, the four children of George Sr, there at his behest, sat nervously waiting for their father to arrive. The oldest son, George Jr followed by Peter, their sister Sarah and the youngest sibling, Daniel, had all been summoned for some important news.
When their father entered the room the nervous silence broke, Sarah stood up and was first to hug her dad, followed by the three brothers. George senior, elderly and weak to the eyes seemed to have a pep in his step and was more chipper in attitude than he had been in a long time. He sat them down and took his rightful position at the head of the table.
“What’s going on Dad?” ssked George Jr.
“Ok ok, I’ll get straight to it. I spoke with my doctor again on Monday.”
“Have they beat it?” Peter asked, cutting in before his father could finish.
“Let him tell us Pete,” Sarah added impatiently.
“Is that it Dad, have they beat it? Is it good news?” Daniel asked in hope.
“Enough. Let me speak,” their father said sternly. “No they haven’t son. It seems it has beaten me,” he added, and the silence returned to the table.
He looked across the faces of his adult children as they processed the morbid information, and in the moment they all looked like children again. Lost in the horror.
“You mean you’re going to die?” Sarah asked, tears beginning their assault on her eyes.
“Yes, I am going to die,” he replied.
The table took a collective sigh of disbelief and hung their heads in unified distress.
“I thought it was going to be good news,” Daniel said, sniffling with emotion.
“It is good news, son. At the very least for me.”
Sarah looked up from her falling tears, angered.
“How can you say that? We love you; you tell us the treatment hasn’t worked and then say it's good news!” she said.
“It depends on the perspective,” George Sr replied calmly. “I’m seventy-one years old, I’ve been in hell for three years fighting this thing and it has robbed me off my strength. I’ve had enough. I’m tired and I want it to be over. You kids have given me nine grandchildren, and they’ve given me five beautiful grandchildren. I’ve been a success in business. I’ve travelled the world. I’ve had great loves, and great foes. I have lived a full life. We all die, but we don’t all die happy.”
The table quietened in respectful reflection of the words from the man sat at its head.
“What are we supposed to do now, Dad?” asked his namesake.
George Sr smiled across the table at his four children, his legacy incarnate. His immortality intertwined in their DNA and the generations after them.
“We live, son. For as long as we all have left, we live.”
Festival - hippy to the ready
(as Glastonbury founder, Michael Eavis receives a knighthood for his work in the music industry and his charitable contributions)
Summer sparks the festival, where sun and fun take place,
disrobe the dreary winter blues, gather now - make haste
special date that springs to mind for being from West Country,
Pilton Pop was used to be, now known as Glastonbury,
never mind if mud and rain, such atmosphere is heady,
plan, enjoy, a special treat, relax, for getting ready,
feast your eyes, to enjoyment found, that lasting joy remembered,
as time evolves, you’ll always feel,
Glastonbury forever.
Pamela King
The good news
Shout to the mountains, proclaim the messiah's birth,
the good news will spread to the ends of the earth.
He has come to save all mankind,
with his atoning love and miracle signs.
We who were in darkness, will now find the light,
to lead us out of our sinful plight.
Shout to the oceans, shout to the seas,
proclaim the good news, for both you and me.
Laura Sanders
Good news
At last happiness came gushing through -
relief, elation, a celebration is due!
Good news is like a shot of adrenaline,
now we will prosper, now we will win!
A healthy new born, a clear diagnosis of health,
an announcement of a wedding, an increase in wealth.
Good news can be a tonic, welcomed on life's path,
a new job promotion, well pleased, we can laugh!
Laura Sanders
Brightest day
Just eighteen days since that day
each day before so full of dread
the surgeon’s knife wrote its essay
so grateful you are not, well enough saidthe wind bullies honeysuckle still yellow
from darkened cloud rain thrashes its scream
and though autumn's hue is so mellow
today is brighter than you could ever dream.
Dave Larcombe
(author's note: surviving cancer)
All Clear
The years were advancing too fast for his liking,
at a pace he couldn’t apprehend.
His time was consumed with medical matters,
it was driving him around the bend.
He had had two melanomas
they were swiftly taken away.
He was checked to see if the cancer had spread,
thankfully no, but it might reappear one day.
Living with that knowledge,
is very hard to bear.
One minute there is nothing,
and then it could be there.
He went for his six-monthly check up,
apprehensive as one can be.
The doctor pored over him,
checking every blemish carefully.
A body scan was requested
they would do it there and then.
He was worried, this hadn’t happened before,
has it come back again?
His blood pressure had risen,
to heights he’d never seen.
He was very down, fearing the worst,
and turned a shade of green.
After an hour or so it was all over,
he yearned for good news and started to pray.
The doctor intervened, “All clear my friend,
see you again in six months on the thirty-first of May.”
Garry Davidson
Hervea Bajou
by Don Magee
(November 10, 2023 was my wife’s birthday, and we were on a balcony in Gran Canaria, late afternoon drinking some Cava in celebration. We received a text message to say that a grand daughter had just been born the same afternoon back in the UK. The parents named her Hervea, her surname is Bajou. I was inspired (if that is the right word given a few drinks in) to immediately write a short story that was done in one session that afternoon.)
Short Story 1: The beginning
I was born on November 10, 2023. I cannot read, I cannot write. I cannot talk, but I can see, and my grandad (gd) looks at me, and understands my thoughts, so this is my story, so far, not very far in ten days, written in my language by gd.
Why do all the hairy people (gd says they are men, no idea what this is), all look, and smell the same. Gd said I am female, no idea what that means. He says other people are male but no idea what the difference is; gd says this will all become clearer when I’m older. Why do all the females (gd’s description) want to kiss me, pick me up, even when sleeping, and cuddle me (no idea what this is). They at least all smell (his word)… better.
My mum (I’m told and assume) that is who she is, holds me tight, and cries (no idea what crying is although gd said it’s emotion which he says will happen along the way…..what way is this?)
Gd’s thoughts meld with mine (his words although I have no idea what meld means), and I see him as… different from the rest… he says he is male, but how am I to know. I know he is kind, and so very not like the others. I can see him, his eyes are grey blue, I’m surprised I understand what colours are…but surprise, surprise I do. Mine are dark (that’s what the nurse says, but gd has not told me what a nurse is… she is another smell who keeps picking me up. Why?
My dad... gd says you need one but he states that it’s for the future.. I look at him.. please gd tell me.. so he says in a few days time he will explain… ok he will tell me what a dad is. I think, half asleep, it’s better this way because they will leave me alone, that a mum and dad are far too… gd said complicated…. it’s too much for me. If I sleep a lot perhaps all this will stop. Who are all the smelly people (gd said older people), who want to wake me up, shake me (gd says gently rock me), and then give me to someone else.
I can’t wait to grow up so long as gd is there to explain what growing up is. No-one else seems to have a clue (gd’s words) given they are all either separated (no idea what this means), thinking about it, unhappy (like I am when they keep waking me up), or…. gd hasn’t explained that bit, and I’m not sure I want him to.
Good news
We’re the creation that knows much of its time is to await
the beasts’ know only what’s before them and self-preservation
man looks back, dreams ahead, plans and conflates
there’s no escaping this uniqueness it’s his, it’s innate
though that gift comes with its tribulation
why is a full belly and grand shelter not sufficient?
For nature’s lower lives it is but those with dominion not?
If the raw instincts are satisfied then what is deficient
a warm bed, replete and full but restlessness persistent
the mind of a man is a panther until it’s tamed and rethought
a taming doesn’t come from looking down but by straight in the eyes
put the panther back in his cage or any like him that intrudes
you can’t do it alone and it’s no surprise
put down your pride, stunt it and be wise
God is with you if you let Him and that’s the Good News.
Tom Bowler
March 18, 2024
Springtime...
A Good Idea
In the village where I used to live there is a wide ditch as you approach it from the Ross direction. One spring day some time ago we woke up to discover a caravan had taken up residence so to speak in the ditch. Nobody quite knew how it got there and nobody had heard anything amiss, despite some villagers living alongside the road. It looked set to remain where it lay, as the council were adamant that the ditch lay within the boundaries of the local farm, whereas the farmer disputed this, maintaining that the ditch constituted council owned land. The caravan, although not huge, became a tourist attraction. People came from miles around to speculate on how it came to be there and how it ended up vertically nose down in the ditch, reminiscent of a duck, head down and its body bolt upright in the air. What brought a smile to people’s faces was that it was a 1950s era caravan, the type of which you usually see in children’s picture books. I was one of the first to come across the caravan and concerned that there were possibly people inside, with the help of a fellow dog walker, I opened the door and dropped down the few feet. I looked around and was immediately drawn to the two plates of cold curry that were still retaining a strange aromatic smell that had fallen onto what was now the floor. Where were the occupants? I wondered. It was as though tasting the curry had somehow transported them into another dimension. I climbed out of the caravan and gestured with a shrug of my shoulders, indicating that I could find nobody inside. As months went by, even the police drew a blank, the wrangling between farmer and council intensified but the village pub did very well out of the hordes of tourists who liked the odd drink or two as they contemplated the mystery. I was used to seeing the upturned caravan, which seemed to blend into the landscape as I walked past it, almost on a daily basis. Then, one unforgettable day, we woke up to find the caravan had gone completely. No trace of it was left, nobody had heard or seen anything that night. Despite enquiries, the caravan was never seen again in the ditch or on the road for that matter, but an incident two weeks later had me wondering. I happened to be walking past the pub one evening when I heard a noise as somebody quickly shut a wooden door from one of the pub's outhouses. But just before it slammed shut, I’m sure I spotted a flash of green and white on the corner of what looked like a vintage caravan. A thought quickly struck me. If I played my cards right, the odd free drink might just come my way, courtesy of a very cunning landlord, who had had a good idea.
Graham Phipps
Among the shattered homes, gutted towns and villages of the war-ravaged landscape of Eastern Ukraine, the renewal of life still emerges undefeated.
Even so, many vegetable gardens will remain unattended. Their owners either dead or displaced due to a war that was not of their making.
This ought to be a season of celebration, of replanting and regrowth.
Instead, because of a relentless assault, devastation and upheaval that continually concentrates minds, spring will be barely noticed, much less appreciated, as it passes into a long summer of futile warfare, as a country fights for its survival.
Roger Knight
God gives nature His blessing
When the snow start’s melting for the long term, take note
there’s more happening around you in the obvious and the remote
rivers are surging with the thaw from the peaks
hatchlings beg food from their mothers, never closing their beaks
while the wife with the green thumb treats her garden to fresh drawn compost
there’s a rough time though, that precedes these natural benefactions
creatures burrow in, men light fires until time passes to the warm blooded’s satisfaction
no living thing save man knows the science behind Earth’s space travel
but even the insects stir in the soil sensing what’s coming and what’s to unravel
a time and place where the world and sun find the sweet spot in an orbit and interaction
there’s a name in many places but in one lingo it’s called spring
whatever it’s called, the birds sound the same when they all start to sing
open your senses because they’ve been holding in anticipation
the more you draw in the more it exceeds expectation
so cut a bouquet and hope for well things the season can bring.
Tom Bowler
The spider's web
It hung between the spiky gorse
which pervaded the local golfing course.
It was as if the early morning mist
had alighted and had kissed.
Droplets on the silken siren threads
like lace on newly married heads.
How tempted was the stupid errant fly
why didn’t he just go wandering by?
Instead of ending up ensnared
how could his senses be so impaired?
That he did not recognise the trap
so into the ring he threw his cap.
"Come into the parlour," said the spider
that wiggled and jiggled inside her.
Web so carefully constructed
that flies were destructed.
The moment they were tempted
no contract pre-empted.
How could a beauty of nature
be so deadly a lure?
A tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye
any tasty morsel that could fly.
Could receive the sentence of death
and breathe his last breath.
In a web that was woven
in a deadly witch’s coven.
It’s been proven so many times
we’ve committed so many crimes.
Attracted by the sweetness of honey
the pleasures of such easy money.
The riches bewitches those that are lazy
and we wonder how flies could be so crazy.
Benny Cardwell
Spring
They tell me spring has sprung
even though berries on branches still are hung.
They tell me it’s the spring equinox
I tell them what a load of bollocks.
We all know when spring begins
I know all about extension springs.
And torsion springs and compression springs
the weather changes and the bluebird sings.
But have you seen the snow in April?
I have but then I know I will.
Sense the time to plant my seeds
warmth and sun is what they needs.
I will turn the earth and feel the soil
It’s got to simmer once brought to boil.
Simmer I said, not summer that comes after
that’s the time for joy and laughter.
Spring’s the time to make you think
about life reborn and in the pink.
My God you do look well
and luck has spun its magic spell.
Not all have seen the winter through
I am so glad to see it’s you.
To hear your voice and see your face
you weren’t the object for track and trace.
So seasons start their yearly round
I can’t write verse like Ezra Pound.
Nor keep goal like Kasper Schmeichel
but I can tell you how the seasons cycle.
Benny Cardwell
The dawn of spring
Despite a long, wet winter, darkness is slowly surrendering to light and there is an inkling of rebirth, renewal and regrowth. The daffodils and crocuses have taken over from the snowdrops and there is a pervading sense of optimism that winter's gloom is almost dispelled. I remain grateful to still be part of this seasonal pageantry, this celebration of emerging life, that encourages belief in the possibility that despite the ubiquitousness of evil in this world, goodness has not been entirely defeated and may even triumph in the end.
Roger Knight
Spring days
Spring seems to burst forth with avid jubilation,
animals and birds emerge from their winter hibernation.
The blackbird sings its sweet melody,
and bumblebees hums around - happy to be free!
Honey bees buzz from flower to flower,
as the days grow longer, hour by hour.
But glorious is the spring time sun,
enabling us to have more outdoors fun!
Springtime flowers colour the land,
yellow celandines, buttercups, daffodils grand.
Clear weather ahead, no ice or mist,
winter has retreated, no longer missed...
Clutches of speckled eggs spotted in nests,
and Easter is the celebration Christians like best.
Spring heralds in, the new born lambs
and baby creatures frolic and try hard to stand.
Blossom adorns trees and shrubs reveal their hues,
spring's entrance is to summer, where the heat will burn through!
Laura Sanders
The dawn of spring
Early spring and the blackthorn appears, in snow white patches, in greening, hedges.
Slowly the flora awakens, as yellows daffodils sprout in abundance, from the edges.
Pink candied blossoms, cloth trees, like suspended confetti, waiting to fall.
The sun brings it all to life, touching every animal and plant, both big and small.
Buds too await the light, the lengthening days, on the cusp of partially opening,
the dawn of spring begins, anticipation high, it's a time of optimism and hoping...
Spring, brings more colour and hues to the dull countryside, people feel better inside.
Lambs frolic, birds, sing, the butteflies and bees on a mission, no longer seem to hide .
A time of renewal, rebirth, mixed with a paint pallate of vernal sunshine,
a time where we can look forward, to more warmer days and blooms of summer time.
Laura Sanders
The dawn of spring
The birds are singing in the trees,
spring flowers have appeared.
The bees are back in business,
all our hearts are cheered.
The cold dark days of winter,
are taking a vacation.
Now let’s all celebrate,
it’s time for regeneration.
The plants are green and healthy.
the sun has removed the chill.
Take off that coat, come sit with me,
drink tea outside if you will.
The days are getting longer,
after winter, that’s so appealing.
Spring brings with it such hope and joy,
it’s such a wondrous feeling.
Garry Davidson
Global deaths from euthanasia exceed 30,000 in a year.
They’ll be dreaming...
by Kamran Connelly
As the boardroom darkened and the projector lit up the white wall, the rumble of the prospective investors settled. A small select group of twenty of the most wealthy and powerful people had been gathered in secrecy to be presented with the newest project from a company most had never heard.
Drake Industrial, the leading military tech company on the planet, had a new division. A well-dressed middle aged man took the floor beneath the large display and a small spotlight illuminated him.
“Welcome dear investors, shareholders and dignitaries. Thank you for joining us this evening,” he said and began to slowly pace. He clicked a button, and the screen adopted the company logo for Drake industrial, a regal looking golden crest with a lion next to the letters DI. Then it faded to a picture of a stand-up machine that looked like a tanning booth with the words DREAM DIRECTION TECH.
“Gentlemen, recent studies have revealed that people choosing to end their lives by means of euthanasia are at an all-time high. Thirty thousand globally this year, and set to rise. It’s predicted that once laws relax people from the bottom end of society will choose to cease life rather than continue to struggle on. With predictions as high as five million within the next eight years. We intend to capitalise on this trend.”
A spattering of whispers and small chuckles came from the dark. And then a question.
“Capitalise how?”
“Our dream direction technology will put them into a perpetual dream state, of their choosing of course. The process is intended to be irreversible, so legally speaking they’ll be dead. The brain however will retain all the memories they want and continue in the version of dream that they’ve selected. The body retains full physical function and a small part of the brain will be reserved to respond to basic commands.”
“How does it work?” a voice asked from the darkness.
“Well, I’m afraid that’s confidential information. As always we must guard our technology closely. But, I assure you the procedure is painless. The patient simply steps inside of the machine and in thirty minutes the process is complete.”
“What’s it for?” asked another voice.
“At first, companionship. Menial tasks that need to be carried out for those who are incapable. Life expectancy of the wealthy is at an all-time high and set to hit one hundred years old in the near future. Our competitors think robots will fill these roles, but they fail to see the problem they will face. People can’t connect to machines. No matter how life-like they may be. Our product circumnavigates this issue.”
“You said at first. What then?” asked the voice.
“Well I don’t need to tell anyone in this room that Drake Industrial leads the world in conflict resolution technology. We of course see battlefield application.”
“Will they know they’re at war?” the voice asked.
“No. They’ll be dreaming...”
April 2024
Good news...
It depends on the perspective
by Kamran Connelly.
Gathered around a grand table, in the equally grand home of the Boddicker family, the four children of George Sr, there at his behest, sat nervously waiting for their father to arrive. The oldest son, George Jr followed by Peter, their sister Sarah and the youngest sibling, Daniel, had all been summoned for some important news.
When their father entered the room the nervous silence broke, Sarah stood up and was first to hug her dad, followed by the three brothers. George senior, elderly and weak to the eyes seemed to have a pep in his step and was more chipper in attitude than he had been in a long time. He sat them down and took his rightful position at the head of the table.
“What’s going on Dad?” ssked George Jr.
“Ok ok, I’ll get straight to it. I spoke with my doctor again on Monday.”
“Have they beat it?” Peter asked, cutting in before his father could finish.
“Let him tell us Pete,” Sarah added impatiently.
“Is that it Dad, have they beat it? Is it good news?” Daniel asked in hope.
“Enough. Let me speak,” their father said sternly. “No they haven’t son. It seems it has beaten me,” he added, and the silence returned to the table.
He looked across the faces of his adult children as they processed the morbid information, and in the moment they all looked like children again. Lost in the horror.
“You mean you’re going to die?” Sarah asked, tears beginning their assault on her eyes.
“Yes, I am going to die,” he replied.
The table took a collective sigh of disbelief and hung their heads in unified distress.
“I thought it was going to be good news,” Daniel said, sniffling with emotion.
“It is good news, son. At the very least for me.”
Sarah looked up from her falling tears, angered.
“How can you say that? We love you; you tell us the treatment hasn’t worked and then say it's good news!” she said.
“It depends on the perspective,” George Sr replied calmly. “I’m seventy-one years old, I’ve been in hell for three years fighting this thing and it has robbed me off my strength. I’ve had enough. I’m tired and I want it to be over. You kids have given me nine grandchildren, and they’ve given me five beautiful grandchildren. I’ve been a success in business. I’ve travelled the world. I’ve had great loves, and great foes. I have lived a full life. We all die, but we don’t all die happy.”
The table quietened in respectful reflection of the words from the man sat at its head.
“What are we supposed to do now, Dad?” asked his namesake.
George Sr smiled across the table at his four children, his legacy incarnate. His immortality intertwined in their DNA and the generations after them.
“We live, son. For as long as we all have left, we live.”
Festival - hippy to the ready
(as Glastonbury founder, Michael Eavis receives a knighthood for his work in the music industry and his charitable contributions)
Summer sparks the festival, where sun and fun take place,
disrobe the dreary winter blues, gather now - make haste
special date that springs to mind for being from West Country,
Pilton Pop was used to be, now known as Glastonbury,
never mind if mud and rain, such atmosphere is heady,
plan, enjoy, a special treat, relax, for getting ready,
feast your eyes, to enjoyment found, that lasting joy remembered,
as time evolves, you’ll always feel,
Glastonbury forever.
Pamela King
The good news
Shout to the mountains, proclaim the messiah's birth,
the good news will spread to the ends of the earth.
He has come to save all mankind,
with his atoning love and miracle signs.
We who were in darkness, will now find the light,
to lead us out of our sinful plight.
Shout to the oceans, shout to the seas,
proclaim the good news, for both you and me.
Laura Sanders
Good news
At last happiness came gushing through -
relief, elation, a celebration is due!
Good news is like a shot of adrenaline,
now we will prosper, now we will win!
A healthy new born, a clear diagnosis of health,
an announcement of a wedding, an increase in wealth.
Good news can be a tonic, welcomed on life's path,
a new job promotion, well pleased, we can laugh!
Laura Sanders
Brightest day
Just eighteen days since that day
each day before so full of dread
the surgeon’s knife wrote its essay
so grateful you are not, well enough saidthe wind bullies honeysuckle still yellow
from darkened cloud rain thrashes its scream
and though autumn's hue is so mellow
today is brighter than you could ever dream.
Dave Larcombe
(author's note: surviving cancer)
All Clear
The years were advancing too fast for his liking,
at a pace he couldn’t apprehend.
His time was consumed with medical matters,
it was driving him around the bend.
He had had two melanomas
they were swiftly taken away.
He was checked to see if the cancer had spread,
thankfully no, but it might reappear one day.
Living with that knowledge,
is very hard to bear.
One minute there is nothing,
and then it could be there.
He went for his six-monthly check up,
apprehensive as one can be.
The doctor pored over him,
checking every blemish carefully.
A body scan was requested
they would do it there and then.
He was worried, this hadn’t happened before,
has it come back again?
His blood pressure had risen,
to heights he’d never seen.
He was very down, fearing the worst,
and turned a shade of green.
After an hour or so it was all over,
he yearned for good news and started to pray.
The doctor intervened, “All clear my friend,
see you again in six months on the thirty-first of May.”
Garry Davidson
Hervea Bajou
by Don Magee
(November 10, 2023 was my wife’s birthday, and we were on a balcony in Gran Canaria, late afternoon drinking some Cava in celebration. We received a text message to say that a grand daughter had just been born the same afternoon back in the UK. The parents named her Hervea, her surname is Bajou. I was inspired (if that is the right word given a few drinks in) to immediately write a short story that was done in one session that afternoon.)
Short Story 1: The beginning
I was born on November 10, 2023. I cannot read, I cannot write. I cannot talk, but I can see, and my grandad (gd) looks at me, and understands my thoughts, so this is my story, so far, not very far in ten days, written in my language by gd.
Why do all the hairy people (gd says they are men, no idea what this is), all look, and smell the same. Gd said I am female, no idea what that means. He says other people are male but no idea what the difference is; gd says this will all become clearer when I’m older. Why do all the females (gd’s description) want to kiss me, pick me up, even when sleeping, and cuddle me (no idea what this is). They at least all smell (his word)… better.
My mum (I’m told and assume) that is who she is, holds me tight, and cries (no idea what crying is although gd said it’s emotion which he says will happen along the way…..what way is this?)
Gd’s thoughts meld with mine (his words although I have no idea what meld means), and I see him as… different from the rest… he says he is male, but how am I to know. I know he is kind, and so very not like the others. I can see him, his eyes are grey blue, I’m surprised I understand what colours are…but surprise, surprise I do. Mine are dark (that’s what the nurse says, but gd has not told me what a nurse is… she is another smell who keeps picking me up. Why?
My dad... gd says you need one but he states that it’s for the future.. I look at him.. please gd tell me.. so he says in a few days time he will explain… ok he will tell me what a dad is. I think, half asleep, it’s better this way because they will leave me alone, that a mum and dad are far too… gd said complicated…. it’s too much for me. If I sleep a lot perhaps all this will stop. Who are all the smelly people (gd said older people), who want to wake me up, shake me (gd says gently rock me), and then give me to someone else.
I can’t wait to grow up so long as gd is there to explain what growing up is. No-one else seems to have a clue (gd’s words) given they are all either separated (no idea what this means), thinking about it, unhappy (like I am when they keep waking me up), or…. gd hasn’t explained that bit, and I’m not sure I want him to.
Good news
We’re the creation that knows much of its time is to await
the beasts’ know only what’s before them and self-preservation
man looks back, dreams ahead, plans and conflates
there’s no escaping this uniqueness it’s his, it’s innate
though that gift comes with its tribulation
why is a full belly and grand shelter not sufficient?
For nature’s lower lives it is but those with dominion not?
If the raw instincts are satisfied then what is deficient
a warm bed, replete and full but restlessness persistent
the mind of a man is a panther until it’s tamed and rethought
a taming doesn’t come from looking down but by straight in the eyes
put the panther back in his cage or any like him that intrudes
you can’t do it alone and it’s no surprise
put down your pride, stunt it and be wise
God is with you if you let Him and that’s the Good News.
Tom Bowler
March 18, 2024
Springtime...
A Good Idea
In the village where I used to live there is a wide ditch as you approach it from the Ross direction. One spring day some time ago we woke up to discover a caravan had taken up residence so to speak in the ditch. Nobody quite knew how it got there and nobody had heard anything amiss, despite some villagers living alongside the road. It looked set to remain where it lay, as the council were adamant that the ditch lay within the boundaries of the local farm, whereas the farmer disputed this, maintaining that the ditch constituted council owned land. The caravan, although not huge, became a tourist attraction. People came from miles around to speculate on how it came to be there and how it ended up vertically nose down in the ditch, reminiscent of a duck, head down and its body bolt upright in the air. What brought a smile to people’s faces was that it was a 1950s era caravan, the type of which you usually see in children’s picture books. I was one of the first to come across the caravan and concerned that there were possibly people inside, with the help of a fellow dog walker, I opened the door and dropped down the few feet. I looked around and was immediately drawn to the two plates of cold curry that were still retaining a strange aromatic smell that had fallen onto what was now the floor. Where were the occupants? I wondered. It was as though tasting the curry had somehow transported them into another dimension. I climbed out of the caravan and gestured with a shrug of my shoulders, indicating that I could find nobody inside. As months went by, even the police drew a blank, the wrangling between farmer and council intensified but the village pub did very well out of the hordes of tourists who liked the odd drink or two as they contemplated the mystery. I was used to seeing the upturned caravan, which seemed to blend into the landscape as I walked past it, almost on a daily basis. Then, one unforgettable day, we woke up to find the caravan had gone completely. No trace of it was left, nobody had heard or seen anything that night. Despite enquiries, the caravan was never seen again in the ditch or on the road for that matter, but an incident two weeks later had me wondering. I happened to be walking past the pub one evening when I heard a noise as somebody quickly shut a wooden door from one of the pub's outhouses. But just before it slammed shut, I’m sure I spotted a flash of green and white on the corner of what looked like a vintage caravan. A thought quickly struck me. If I played my cards right, the odd free drink might just come my way, courtesy of a very cunning landlord, who had had a good idea.
Graham Phipps
Among the shattered homes, gutted towns and villages of the war-ravaged landscape of Eastern Ukraine, the renewal of life still emerges undefeated.
Even so, many vegetable gardens will remain unattended. Their owners either dead or displaced due to a war that was not of their making.
This ought to be a season of celebration, of replanting and regrowth.
Instead, because of a relentless assault, devastation and upheaval that continually concentrates minds, spring will be barely noticed, much less appreciated, as it passes into a long summer of futile warfare, as a country fights for its survival.
Roger Knight
God gives nature His blessing
When the snow start’s melting for the long term, take note
there’s more happening around you in the obvious and the remote
rivers are surging with the thaw from the peaks
hatchlings beg food from their mothers, never closing their beaks
while the wife with the green thumb treats her garden to fresh drawn compost
there’s a rough time though, that precedes these natural benefactions
creatures burrow in, men light fires until time passes to the warm blooded’s satisfaction
no living thing save man knows the science behind Earth’s space travel
but even the insects stir in the soil sensing what’s coming and what’s to unravel
a time and place where the world and sun find the sweet spot in an orbit and interaction
there’s a name in many places but in one lingo it’s called spring
whatever it’s called, the birds sound the same when they all start to sing
open your senses because they’ve been holding in anticipation
the more you draw in the more it exceeds expectation
so cut a bouquet and hope for well things the season can bring.
Tom Bowler
The spider's web
It hung between the spiky gorse
which pervaded the local golfing course.
It was as if the early morning mist
had alighted and had kissed.
Droplets on the silken siren threads
like lace on newly married heads.
How tempted was the stupid errant fly
why didn’t he just go wandering by?
Instead of ending up ensnared
how could his senses be so impaired?
That he did not recognise the trap
so into the ring he threw his cap.
"Come into the parlour," said the spider
that wiggled and jiggled inside her.
Web so carefully constructed
that flies were destructed.
The moment they were tempted
no contract pre-empted.
How could a beauty of nature
be so deadly a lure?
A tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye
any tasty morsel that could fly.
Could receive the sentence of death
and breathe his last breath.
In a web that was woven
in a deadly witch’s coven.
It’s been proven so many times
we’ve committed so many crimes.
Attracted by the sweetness of honey
the pleasures of such easy money.
The riches bewitches those that are lazy
and we wonder how flies could be so crazy.
Benny Cardwell
Spring
They tell me spring has sprung
even though berries on branches still are hung.
They tell me it’s the spring equinox
I tell them what a load of bollocks.
We all know when spring begins
I know all about extension springs.
And torsion springs and compression springs
the weather changes and the bluebird sings.
But have you seen the snow in April?
I have but then I know I will.
Sense the time to plant my seeds
warmth and sun is what they needs.
I will turn the earth and feel the soil
It’s got to simmer once brought to boil.
Simmer I said, not summer that comes after
that’s the time for joy and laughter.
Spring’s the time to make you think
about life reborn and in the pink.
My God you do look well
and luck has spun its magic spell.
Not all have seen the winter through
I am so glad to see it’s you.
To hear your voice and see your face
you weren’t the object for track and trace.
So seasons start their yearly round
I can’t write verse like Ezra Pound.
Nor keep goal like Kasper Schmeichel
but I can tell you how the seasons cycle.
Benny Cardwell
The dawn of spring
Despite a long, wet winter, darkness is slowly surrendering to light and there is an inkling of rebirth, renewal and regrowth. The daffodils and crocuses have taken over from the snowdrops and there is a pervading sense of optimism that winter's gloom is almost dispelled. I remain grateful to still be part of this seasonal pageantry, this celebration of emerging life, that encourages belief in the possibility that despite the ubiquitousness of evil in this world, goodness has not been entirely defeated and may even triumph in the end.
Roger Knight
Spring days
Spring seems to burst forth with avid jubilation,
animals and birds emerge from their winter hibernation.
The blackbird sings its sweet melody,
and bumblebees hums around - happy to be free!
Honey bees buzz from flower to flower,
as the days grow longer, hour by hour.
But glorious is the spring time sun,
enabling us to have more outdoors fun!
Springtime flowers colour the land,
yellow celandines, buttercups, daffodils grand.
Clear weather ahead, no ice or mist,
winter has retreated, no longer missed...
Clutches of speckled eggs spotted in nests,
and Easter is the celebration Christians like best.
Spring heralds in, the new born lambs
and baby creatures frolic and try hard to stand.
Blossom adorns trees and shrubs reveal their hues,
spring's entrance is to summer, where the heat will burn through!
Laura Sanders
The dawn of spring
Early spring and the blackthorn appears, in snow white patches, in greening, hedges.
Slowly the flora awakens, as yellows daffodils sprout in abundance, from the edges.
Pink candied blossoms, cloth trees, like suspended confetti, waiting to fall.
The sun brings it all to life, touching every animal and plant, both big and small.
Buds too await the light, the lengthening days, on the cusp of partially opening,
the dawn of spring begins, anticipation high, it's a time of optimism and hoping...
Spring, brings more colour and hues to the dull countryside, people feel better inside.
Lambs frolic, birds, sing, the butteflies and bees on a mission, no longer seem to hide .
A time of renewal, rebirth, mixed with a paint pallate of vernal sunshine,
a time where we can look forward, to more warmer days and blooms of summer time.
Laura Sanders
The dawn of spring
The birds are singing in the trees,
spring flowers have appeared.
The bees are back in business,
all our hearts are cheered.
The cold dark days of winter,
are taking a vacation.
Now let’s all celebrate,
it’s time for regeneration.
The plants are green and healthy.
the sun has removed the chill.
Take off that coat, come sit with me,
drink tea outside if you will.
The days are getting longer,
after winter, that’s so appealing.
Spring brings with it such hope and joy,
it’s such a wondrous feeling.
Garry Davidson
