Promise | A Poem

You have fallen from grace, like an Angel in black.
Having lost your spirit, you’re trying to get back.
You’ve been strong for so long now, it’s ok to feel weak
It doesn’t mean this is over, however troubled or bleak.
You might have made the wrong choices but we all do in time
Things are going to get better, I promise all will be fine.

White Flag | A Poem

Do we ever really know someone
When you think there’s trust when it could be gone?
And you’re scared its too late to be making amends
Cos you thought you’d always be the best of friends?

You feel like you cant do right for doing wrong
When all you really want is just to get along.
And you’re tired of feeling like you’ve made a mistake
Cos you feel like you’ve had more than you can take.

Over thinking situations over in your head
When really there’s plenty more to be said.
But you’re scared of the hurt that you might cause
By expressing your feelings, so you put them on pause.

I miss how it was and want to go back
To sort this all out and to get back on track.
I love you so dearly, a real special friend.
And hope this is something that we can amend.

Reflection | Random Experimental Poetry & Fiction

Standing at the top of the mountain I can see far beyond the horizon, I can see my past and future, all across infinity, the paths I chose, the paths I left behind and the paths I have yet to walk.

The cool softness of the wind, spirals up and seduces my skin, reminding me of my existence and bringing me back to now. I am here. Looking out to the East I see the Sun rising slowly and effortlessly up through the vast pale blue sky.

My memories are out there, thousands of miles into the distance, hidden amongst the mountains and streams and even the clouds above. Resonating. Everything around me in this moment, is me. I am in the moment.

Holding out my hand, I offer my heart. I can feel the pull of the energy forming, creating. In a burst of sunlight through the clouds, my heart is gone. Taken by the past. Out there, in the great beyond, amongst the shadows and the dark my heart starts its work.

Closing my eyes, I slow my breath. Void of feeling I clear my mind. And I am given sight of something new. The Sun is now hidden, my face is cool, and now wet as delicate rain drops spit spatter onto my forehead and cheeks. Refreshing and revitalizing. I am being reborn through nature.

I am being given a new heart. I feel the beat within me, the knowledge that I am once again alive.

Opening my eyes, the rain stops. I look out to the horizon, now covered in haze. The past now concealed. I turn away and start my journey back down the mountain. I am ready to start again. I am free.

The White Meadow | A Poem

She runs, in the sun, and on through the White Meadow

Chasing her future, the past now an echo

Solace is sought from the past days gone by

As she leaps through the Meadow and up to the sky.

Reaching the river, where the water flows on,

She skips over the rocks, and in moments she’s gone.

She’s at one with Nature, and sets herself free,

Heading towards who she needs to be.

The Death of Candi Morgan | Flash Fiction

Candi Morgan was a Bitch. It was for that very same reason that unfortunately (or not) she had to die. So when Candi Morgan arrived home early that evening expecting to shrug off her expensive coat and kick off her limited edition Laboutin heels, she was sadly mistaken.

 

You see, women like Candi Morgan usually get by in life by making other women feel insignificant, powerless and inadequate, therefore leaving men vulnerable for manipulation. Just the way she liked it. If it meant she made a few enemies along the way, then darling..damage limitation.

 

As Candi Morgan approached the breakfast bar on the ground floor of her newly renovated stucco walled duplex she almost didn’t notice the small plastic card tucked into the fruitbowl. Nestled snugly in-between this morning’s fresh bananas and plums, was an ID Pass. Not Candi Morgan’s ID Pass however. The small passport photo was a little grubby but the face of an unknown brunette stared back at her. Alexa George. Plain, unassuming, probably a virgin, Candi Morgan thought to herself.

 

Before Candi Morgan could think why Alexa George’s ID Pass was now currently in her hand, she heard a faint squeak. The kind you hear when a sports shoe hits the clean smooth surface of a squash court, or a school hallway….

 

Just as Candi was about to place the ID Pass back onto the counter, a sickening thud connected to the base of her skull and she dropped. A dead weight. As Candi fell her forehead met the counter, instantly splitting the skin and releasing fresh dark crimson droplets. As she lay crumpled against the cupboard, a thick heavy swell pounded through Candi’s head. Disoriented and unable to focus properly, although enough to see Alexa George stood over her, a large stainless steel Thermos hanging limply in her right hand.

 

With a groan, Candi managed to slowly and cautiously raise her own hand up in some last attempt at defence or mercy. Through the ringing in her ears all she heard was…

 

THUD.

Candi

Candi (Photo credit: SteinsGate)

Enhanced by Zemanta

Doctor Who at 50

Fifty years ago,

November 1963,

A brand new Sci-Fi show began, on the BBC.

A grubby disused junkyard,

76 Totters Lane,

Where Ian and Barbara’s lives would never be the same again.

They followed Susan Foreman home,

From Coal Hill School that day,

And all they found was the Police Public Call Box to their dismay.

When suddenly an aged man,

Proceeded to walk right through,

And all of Time and Space was there, just beyond the Blue.

For Susan was his Grandaughter,

And nothing really shocked her,

For this old man, was wise and brave and called himself The Doctor.

They stepped inside the big Blue box,

Full of might and vigour.

But quickly stopped, and gasped in awe, the inside was much Bigger.

Impossible they then both said,

It defies every convention!

“Nonsense” The Doctor muttered then, “You’re in the 4th Dimension”

eso1234c

So 50 years have passed since then, the Anniversary will chime.

We can look back on all the Adventures we’ve had through Space and Time.

This is my own special little ode, to the Mad Man in a box, big and Blue.

From Hartnell to Davison and Baker to Smith, the fantastical Doctor Who.