Poetry Competition Winner: The Ballad

Janus: The Ballad of 1871 (Pride)

I was unaware of this interesting theory on the ‘coded’ meaning of Mr Lear’s charming poem “The Owl and the Pussycat”. A clever, surprising ballad, and a pleasant reminder of Mr Lear’s excellent work. I don’t know why this poem wasn’t split into four line stanzas, but no matter. Thank you, Janus, a delightful ballad.

John Mackie: Avarice a Sin? (Greed)

A fine and grand ballad in the Border Tradition, encompassing a broad sweep of history. There is little doubt in my mind, given Mr Mackie’s frank admission in the last stanza regarding the traits of his countrymen, that in said Mason’s view, placement of Avarice as Sin and Charity as Virtue was as wrong as a factory farmed haggis and required correction. Brilliant, Mr Mackie!

JW: The Ballad of reading in Gaol (Gluttony with a touch of Lust)

This outrageous piece explodes across the page in a (prison) riot of decadence and big words. JW has broken all the rules with exuberant abandon and it is certainly not poetry as we know it. JW is, no doubt, ahead of his time. I am left with a burning need to taste the succulent jabuticaba, and a question: Was Oscar Wilde really a Spaniard? I think we should be told. Hilarious poem, JW!

Araminta: The Battle of Thermopylae: A Ballad (Pride)

Battles make great material for ballads; this one fairly romps along and scans beautifully. In the tradition of the early ballad, it could (perhaps) be set to music. By the way, I knew the Spartans were proud and courageous in battle, but I didn’t realise they were seriously into hairdressing. A lovely poem, Ara, and thanks for your heroic efforts in penning a second entry.

Continue reading “Poetry Competition Winner: The Ballad”

The Hit Man (things are seldom what they seem)

Robert Hampton, a rather charmless man, of average height, medium build and with an instantly forgettable face, had carved himself a pleasant, if rather shallow niche in the village of Coltsfoot. He was beginning to feel quite safe in his rural idyll, although it would never do to become too complacent. He enjoyed the comfort of his Victorian cottage with the mundane name of ‘Meadow View’, but he would move on when the lease ran out; he always moved on. Continue reading “The Hit Man (things are seldom what they seem)”

The Dreaming

Evie’s Totem lies quiescent in the shallow waters, his mind half awake, half asleep; dreaming and waiting.

She walks down to the sea, her brown toes splayed to gain purchase on the dry, shifting sand. The hot air is fragrant with salt and seaweed. This place is Bethany, home of her ancestors and final resting place of the Blessed Jo and Flo. Thousands of pilgrims visit Bethany each year to visit the Shrine and partake of the Holy Pumpkin Scones and Boiled Peanuts. She is thinking about the Gathering of the Tribes in the Bunya Mountains next month, shortly after her sixteenth birthday. He will be there, of course, the special boy with the beautiful eyes and chestnut hair. She shivers with excitement. She can’t wait to see him again and her many friends and relations, including auntie-mother and sister-cousins who live in Cherbourg.  She hasn’t seen her family since mother and father were taken by the floods, a year ago. Continue reading “The Dreaming”

September CW Competition – Results

An extremely difficult task; others have said so and I agree with them, wholeheartedly. This competition has turned up a batch of brilliant entries and it was a fur-tearing exercise deciding on a winner. A huge thank you to all the talented people who chose to write wonderful words for the theme “For want of a nail …”

Continue reading “September CW Competition – Results”

New Creative Writing Competition: September

Here it is, earlier than planned.

2,000 words, or less, in a story or poem. A pictorial story is also fine; no-one has attempted it yet (quite difficult, I feel) but there may just be someone out there who would enjoy the challenge.

The theme is: “For want of a nail …” (proverb)

The following words should be included: “toad” and “lemon”.

I quote Mr Mackie, as did Jaime (because she knows what’s what, even though the sentence gives me a headache) and it is the quintessential Mackie, in my opinion, although I could, of course, be wrong : “Deadline midnight GMT (01.00 am BST on the day immediately following the specified day and all and/or any other time zones pari passu)” on 21 September 2010.

If anyone has a problem with the deadline, please let me know.

Possum (with thanks to Val for the inspiration)

Jen drove carefully along the dirt drive and stopped beside the front veranda steps.  She peeled her clammy thighs off the hot seat and went to check on her passenger in the back of the ute.  “You OK, Possum?” No voice, no movement.  Possum was living up to his name. Continue reading “Possum (with thanks to Val for the inspiration)”

Clones – A very short story

Annabel sat at her dressing table in her new underwear and stockings and artfully applied cosmetics to her face.  She was aiming for a natural look, which took some time to achieve. A sinfully expensive, cream silk frock lay waiting, draped across a chair, elegant, beautiful and sexy in an understated way.  She thought about which scent to wear and decided on something light and barely there. Certainly not her husband’s last rather pungent gift, which remained unused and privately labelled ‘Bats Guano’.

Continue reading “Clones – A very short story”

Serial Killers – July Short Story

Small, a beetle, a barely acknowledged and seldom thought of friend of Rabbit, remembered the early morning’s events with a glow of excitement. His pleasure was dimmed somewhat by the recollection that this particular amusement was over, for good, but never mind, he thought, I can find another hobby. He finished  his breakfast, a succulent morsel which once had been another very small friend-and-relation, unfurled his beautiful wings and took flight in search of more fun. Continue reading “Serial Killers – July Short Story”

Speechless Maiden



Picture Source: frank-wouters
and Animal Photos!

I  read Bearsy’s list with some relief.  My name is missing, which must mean that I have already posted my Maiden Speech.  Good for me.  However, as there is no trace of said post, it is possible that  the experience was so traumatic that I deleted it and and now have  a memory block.  So, this is my second blog, which is pretty good going for a bilby!   See you again in six months. 😉