Flight - haiku

brown and dusty

the ground erupts on the wingtips

of sparrows

~~~

Rain - haiga

Homecoming - Friday Fictioneers

(100 word flash fiction)

HOMECOMING

He stood alone on the dusty little railway platform. The train, having sucked people into its metal belly, had rattled off. Where was his father?

Disappointed, he climbed into the solitary taxi. It was night when they reached his remote hamlet. When the driver stopped unexpectedly in the village square, he began to protest.

Suddenly, the place burst into light. Festooned with dried rice stalks, the square erupted with fireworks and the cheers of the entire village. His father stood beaming and his mother rushed forward to embrace him.

He had returned after 10 years, the hamlet’s first qualified doctor.

~~~

P.S. Wanted to write something positive this week after all the sad stories I’ve been writing :) but it seems it has come out rather flat :(

Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -

Autumn - haiku

scorch marks

from a long ago summer

autumn heals

~~~

The tree
must want to kiss the earth
autumn leaves

~~~

 

Blackberry picking - haiga

Rambling river - haiga

Cherry tomatoes - haiga

Birthday present - haiku

we stopped the clocks

and slept for an extra hour

birthday present

~~~

 

the trees shake loose

their autumn leaves on me

birthday present

~~~

 

passing years

bestow hard won wisdom

birthday present

~~~

Prelude - haiku

nights glide in

their cloaks trimmed with cold

prelude to winter

~~~

Autumn sonata - haiga

Lights! Camera! Action!

(100-word flash fiction in poem form) 


Lights! Camera! Action!

How ardently she wished
to shut out those words
that followed her everywhere,
into the bath, into her dreams,

that pecked at her brain
like a cerebral woodpecker,
from age 3 to age 18
from child-star to super-star.

So, first she invited over
a deadly little virus,
it took with it her hearing
and most of her voice.

But she was too famous,
her mother too ambitious
the voices didn’t stop
the roles kept coming.

Then came the fall-
it cut up her face, broke
some bones, nothing
plastic surgery couldn’t fix

Finally, the fire did it…..

~~~

This week’s entry for Friday Fictioneers, that amazing group led and prompted by Rochelle :) The prompt is the following image -

Dawn - haiku

dawn
light breaks through night's curtain
peeping Tom

~~~

day breaks
night unfolds its embrace
a seedling sprouts

~~~

melting darkness
shows you that too much light
will hurt

~~~

April the 1st

I read somewhere
that time is a trick
not at all linear
or orderly
like soldiers would be
in a march-past,
but is rather like a sheaf
of pages piled up on top
of each other
our tomorrows stacked
on our yesterdays
like heavy burdens
of possibilities.

Today,
I dived into that buried pile,
assumedly accessible,
and surfaced on the page
of an yesteryear me,
all blush and innocence,
with a heart that had not yet
learned to distrust,
whose smile still seeped
into lucid eyes
and who is clueless
about how to shape
possibility into reality.

What do I tell
this past version of me?

I then wonder
of all the possible futures
I could have had
why I choose the page
I am now on
and if I had chosen differently
would I be in another sheaf?

or did I even have a choice?

Is it time that tricked me
or is it life?

I stand outside
and gaze at the stars
sliding slowly across the sky
and time trips me up again.

The light that I see
is not the star
but a mere memory of it,
the light that left it
so many light years ago,
by a trick of time
reaching me now,
a ghost, nothing else,
a faded celebrity,
a beautiful echo
that chose to fall
on today’s page.

And then,
everything shifts
and dissolves
like illusionary shadows.
Time is nothing but this moment
and life is happening nowhere
but in this moment.

And April the 1st
is just a label.

~~~

Parasite tales

Behavior control, Nature's way ....

The trees

(100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers)

THE TREES

The trees have taken over the earth. The humans thought they were on top of the pyramid. But all it took was one storm. Unknotted by lightning, unrolled by thunder, and rain. Unrelenting rain. The humans got buried under their own debris. The earth had turned into water, a liquid tomb, which softly sucked at all that flesh.

When it stopped, there were worms everywhere. In eye sockets that once had dreamt dreams, chest cavities where had throbbed hearts, pelvises that had borne generations. The trees had eaten the rest.

Their trunks are now beginning to look like human limbs.

~~~

100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s. Written for the image prompt below.

Poem of the day - Up on top

by Olav H. Hauge

After stumbling a long time over impossible trails
you are up on top.
Hardship didn't crush you, you trod it
down, climbed higher.

That's how you see it. After life has tossed you
away, and you ended up on top
like a one-legged wooden horse on a dump.
Life is merciful, it blinds and provides illusions,
and destiny takes on our burden:
foolishness and arrogance become mountains and marshy places,
hate and resentment become wounds from enemy arrows,
and the doubt always with us becomes cold dry
rocky valleys.

You go in the door.
The pot lies upside down in the hearth,
it sprawls with hostile black feet.

Wind - haiku

the flowers bend

the plants bend, the tree, alas!

gets uprooted

~~~

footprints tremble

up the surface of the lake

mischievous wind

~~~

gusts of memories

run amok in the present

devastation

~~~

russet, brown, orange

chase each other on the grass

autumn windfall

~~~

The latticed window

(100-word flash fiction)

THE LATTICED WINDOW

She stood on the road and looked up at the latticed window, seeing it for the first time from the outside, thinking how beautiful it looked.

She had found herself on the inside one bleak, moonless night, a child bride at 13, an elderly man’s fifth wife. 16 years of hell had followed.

She had been imprisoned in the house, not been allowed to step outside, not even when her father died.

That’s when she had decided to escape. The others were fellow prisoners, all married to the jail-keeper. He had to go.

All it had taken was a pillow.

~~~

100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s .  Written for the image prompt below -

Begonia - softly lit

(100-word flash fiction)

No

As she walks over the wooden bridge, the planks creak. It seems they are trying to say something, but she puts that thought aside, as she recalls the time, when as a child she had dived into the deep end of the pool. It had been so beautiful underwater, so quiet. She could have stayed there forever. But they had pulled her out, made her breathe again.

This time she hopes no one finds her. That she can stay underwater forever, having to breathe no more. When she realises with a start, the planks are saying, “no, no, no ….”

~~~

Friday Fictioneers prompt by Rochelle. Write a 100-word flash fiction piece based on a photo.

 

Photo copyright - Adam Ickes