Mavis and the Trawlerman

I’m afraid it’s another light weight version this week for Friday Fictioneers. My deep and meaningful seems to have buried itself so deep I’m struggling to find it. At least I can rely on the other 100 + contributors each week to keep up their end of the creative talent pool. I’ll just be treading water till somebody throws me a life jacket, or a brick……

chopsticks

The waiter brought the soup and left. Meryl scanned the restaurant, mouthing a sort of half whisper, half mime

“Did you hear about Mavis?”

Distracted by the winking fish eye, Deirdre didn’t look up,

“Mavis who?”

“Bert heard it in the Butchers; said Bob at number 6 had heard it from Big Bertha at the Café”

“Heard what?”

“Mavis Smith has run off to Cyprus with a tattooed trawlerman”

“Mavis Smith!” Deirdre raised her eyebrows.

“She hasn’t run off with a trawlerman, she’s got onto that net thingy, the internet”

“Bloody Chinese whispers” muttered Meryl struggling to lift the soup with her chopsticks.

The Breach

Another attempt at a Shardoma for MINDLOVEMISERY’S weekly challenge. For any one who doesn’t know a Shardorma is composed of six non-rhyming lines (sestina or sextet) and the syllable pattern is 3-5-3-3-7-5.  It can have as many stanzas as you like, just as long as each stanza follows the syllable pattern mentioned above .

 

listener

Releasing,

Lies that tear through steel,

Woven webs,

And cages,

Truth is just a thread away,

Hinted in the breach,

*

Revealing,

Lies that shatter trust,

Innocence,

And promise,

Leaving just uncertainty

Holding back the breach,

*

Restoring,

Life to what was held,

Freeing heart,

And body,

Accidental honesty,

Watch the breach unfold.

 

An English Summer

summer

Original Photo : https://www.flickr.com/photos/56218409@N03/14358644041

*

I walk along,

This lonely isle,

Through fields of green,

And camomile,

Through lazy nights,

And early days,

Through summer rain,

And summer haze,

*

I catch the scent,

Of this fragrant isle,

In a scented breeze,

And summer’s smile,

Through apple trees,

And cherry blossom,

Fresh cut grass,

And scented pollen,

*

I feel the air,

Of this tactile isle,

In a teasing touch,

And pleasant guile,

Through morning breeze,

And evening sun,

Through the day that ends,

And the one just begun.