I Thought…

manOriginal Photo : http://www.flickr.com/photos/klallier/3734820359

I thought I heard you calling,

In a whisper on the breeze,

And I thought I saw your shadow,

In a glimpse between the trees,

I thought I felt your shelter,

When the rain began to fall,

And I thought I felt protected,

When the storm began to call,

I thought I felt your comfort,

When my tears began to weep,

And I thought I felt your healing,

When my pain began to seep,

I thought I felt you with me,

Though I knew that you were gone,

I thought you’d never leave me,

But I think I may be wrong.

It’s Not You, It’s Me!

walking 3

Original Photo : www.flickr.com/photos/saneboy/3811734996


In memories and melodies,

And melancholy dreams,

In whispers of a yesterday,

That seep beneath the seams,

In the little hints of wariness,

And the scents of past regret,

In the touches of reflection,

And the distant silhouette,

In the methods and the madness,

And the meanings you revealed,

In the malice that you buried,

And the lies that you concealed,

In the merriment and mischief,

And in my misread hope,

Lay the trace of insincerity,

In the words I heard you spoke,

To love me, you must leave me,

To free me, you must go,

You’d never love another,

In your heart, you’d always know.

Strippers and Slippers

I’m a bit late this week with my fix of Friday Fictioneers. So I’ve tried to rush something out then I don’t miss a week. I also misinterpreted this weeks picture, I thought they were lights not bottles, opps. But as I’m caught for time I’m going to go with my original idea.  I’m slightly over the 100 word count, but I’m sure the ever gracious host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields won’t shoot me…..


Original Photo : Marie Gail Stratford

Her nipples chafed across the muslin of her dress. The sensation, although alarming, made her wish for something more, but she had no idea what.

Juliet caught his gaze. Even from across the crowded ballroom, his eyes flamed dark and dangerous, as if he saw straight through her gown to her misbehaving nipples.

Modesty made her turn, curiosity pulled her back. He was gone. Her eyes scanned the dance floor. Nothing.

From behind her came a whisper,

“You have something I want”…


The stage hand tipped her shoulder. Jenny closed the kindle, “Damn”.  The only gaze across the strip club tonight would be blood red and whisky induced. Where’s the romance in that?


mother and child copy

Original Photo : www.flickr.com/photos/i-nacho/3501055520


Someone once taught me,

To smile through the pain,

To laugh in the darkness,

And dance in the rain,

They taught me to walk,

When I wanted to run,

And taught me to jump,

So I’d reach for the sun,

They taught me to sing,

So I could be heard,

And taught me the wisdom,

Beneath every word,

They taught me acceptance,

Of what I can’t change,

And taught me forgiveness,

For those I would blame,

And someday I’ll teach you,

What they have taught me,

And then you will know,

What a parent can see.

The Return


Original Photo : http://www.flickr.com/photos/brenda-starr/5079831864

Walk with me slowly,

On a path of return,

Tracing the footsteps,

That bid you adjourn,


Anchor me tightly,

On a sea of remorse,

Awash in the swell,

Of its altering course,


Capture me gently,

On the shore of demand,

Bound and forgiven,

And yours to command,


Lie with me quickly,

On a hungered entice,

Tasting the essence,

No matter its price,


I fall away softly,

On a whisper of hope,

Your voice is the ether,

That calls me on home.

Mind Boxes

Here is my weekly attempt at 100 words of fiction for the fabulous ‘Friday Fictioneers’. Unusual for me, but quite deep this week, it may be a new moon or a vitamin deficiency, so I won’t take it too much to heart just yet. If I’m still deep next week, call in the mountain rescue…….

Deep, dark, funny or just downright rude, whatever your inclination get yourself over to the ever welcoming inn of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and quench your thirst.


Original Photo Copyright : Dawn Q Landau

With a border of salt-edged tears, all the images and memories, the experiences and revelations are separated in my mind. Childhood and adolescence, love affairs and friendships, all neatly boxed into squares.

My conscience is a figure; a keeper of secrets, protector of truth. She’s wise beyond the years already walked and aged beyond the life already lived. Wrapped up well against the cold wind of doubt that often seeps from where I am, she carries my indulgence in her hands. Yet the compassion I crave lays heavy on her shoulders and I feel the weight of every footstep in my mind.

Mirror, Mirror

Wednesday again and time for my weekly fix of Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word piece of flash to the weekly photo prompt. Alas, I’ve once more succumbed to the curse of rhyme as my fiction has taken off with a bronzed Spanish wrestler for a short sabbatical. The latest postcard was rather short, written in eyeliner and stained with red wine, so the trip may last a little longer than anticipated……

Why don’t you follow the link and have a go,


Photo Copyright : Janet Webb


Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

Catching features,

Warts and all,

Falling in and falling under,

Spells that cast are pulled asunder,


Mirror, mirror, say my name,

Do you know,

From where I came,

Running on and running over,

Time is lost that won’t recover,


Mirror, mirror, where am I,

Chasing something,

Don’t know why,

Looking here and looking yonder,

Trailing secrets as I wander,


Mirror, mirror, face unseen,

Show me now,

Where I have been,

Living with and living in,

This mirrored cell I’m caught within.