Author: Araminta

Bonfire Night: A Sonnet

Imagine on a wet November eve,

Dark, dismal celebrating; cold and yet

We gather round a fire, would you believe,

Each year some masochistic joy we get.

There is a point to this bizarre event,

A Guy is burnt, foil clad potatoes too.

The children munch and then the sky is rent

With bangs and whirls and stars of every hue.

Now wide eyed, open mouthed, the youngsters gaze;

The night explodes with fizzles, bangs and zooms.

The spectacle of awesome powers amaze,

Sky Rockets, Squibs, and Bangers end in booms.

The memory of Guy Fawkes ever lurks,

Remembered every year, with fireworks !

The Place: October Short Story Competition

The Place

They met at the usual bar. It was open 24/7, and it was a place to hang out, chill and meet people. There were the regulars of course, but people came and went, and although some were missed, their places were occupied by the newcomers and trade was brisk.

They were all exceptionally beautiful people, rich and successful. They oozed charm and sophistication; even white teeth and a confidence which always amused him.

Barista watched the room, dispensed cocktails with a quiet efficiency and listened. He responded to the regulars, laughed politely at their jokes but to most of the punters he was invisible; just someone behind the bar. Continue reading “The Place: October Short Story Competition”

Apologies for the disappearance of my post entitled “Stupid?”

Apologies for the disappearance of my post entitled “Stupid?”

Yes, I deleted it myself. Unusual for me to do so but I felt that some of the comments were not acceptable. I quote the rules of this site below:

Moderation
Boadicea’s Chariot aims to comply rigorously with the WordPress Terms of Service – after all, WordPress will shut us down if we don’t, so it makes sense.   Other than that, Boadicea’s Chariot expects all contributors to adhere to conventional standards of behaviour and debate.   As a general guide, “play the ball, not the man”.   Posts and comments which are ill-mannered or resort to personal abuse will be removed.

Authors
Anyone is welcome to become an author in Boadicea’s Chariot. Authors whose posts do not accord with conventional standards of behaviour and debate will be removed.

I would ask that in future when commenting on any of my posts that these guidelines should be borne in mind.

My apologies to those who made some interesting and pertinent comments on the subject of my post.

Stupid?

Thank you for making a small contribution to the future of mankind for removing yourself from the gene pool.

Really, is this what our so called civilisation is  all about?

So do we include the disadvantaged, the old, the mentally ill and the disabled?

Sorry, but it may be just well “well ‘ard” and a  fashionable desperation  to avoid being labelled “politically correct ” but  just who are we to define exactly who is “ stupid”? Maybe you are not entirely serious; if this is so, well do forgive me.*

Hitler tried to purify the gene pool; do we really want to go there again?**

* sigh, irony

** slightly ironic


Manicured to death: September Competition

She looked at her hands. The broken nail marred the perfection of her beautiful manicure. She hated the jagged line and the sheer horror of it all struck her again.

It had been stupid, careless and unnecessary. She knew what was at risk as she looked at the parcel in front of her. She thought it was flowers. Well, when the postman had asked her to sign for the package she had examined it carefully and Interflora was quite obviously what she had noticed. It couldn’t wait; there were flowers inside and waiting until tomorrow, her birthday, was not an option.

The scissors were obviously and annoyingly not in the designated drawer in the kitchen so she had attacked it with her bare hands. Damn the children, they never ever replaced these things in the right place. Could have been the cleaner, she mused. Whatever, they were not to hand and this was not unusual.

The beauty salon were understanding and appreciated that she really could not contemplate turning up at her birthday party with one nail awry. Quite out of the question they had agreed and her appointment was arranged for ten. At least they understood the ghastliness of the situation; something that her husband singularly failed to grasp when she phoned him to explain why she couldn’t stay at home to have the boiler fixed.

Continue reading “Manicured to death: September Competition”

Council House Blues- The Ballad of Sharon and Kev

Council House Blues- The Ballad of Sharon and Kev

Sharon’s Dad was full of rage,
In the Club at your young age!
Her Mum was worse: “You stupid mare,
Do you think we bleeding care?”

She did calm down at last to gloat
As Sharon rushed to grab her coat:
“You’ll gain more points and good thing too,
The council will provide for you.”

Continue reading “Council House Blues- The Ballad of Sharon and Kev”

The death of Death in the afternoon?

Bullfighting could be banned in Barcelona

“The Plaza de Toros Monumental is the last of Barcelona’s three bullrings to still stage “corridas” and even it struggles to fill a third of its 19,000 seats, often attracting more tourists than locals.”

“anything capable of arousing passion in its favor will surely raise as much passion against it.”

Brave Monty Mouse and the Damsel in Distress

Collecting seeds in the forest on a much needed holiday, Monty heard a voice.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb the golden stair.

Well to be fair, this was the closest Monty could come to a translation because his German was almost non-existent, and the destination was a last minute deal he’d found on the internet only two days before.

Intrigued and to be honest at a bit of a loose end, he edged forward to see what was happening.

He was too late. All he saw was the back view of someone disappearing into the window of a high tower. He settled down with his phrase book, nibbled on some snacks and enjoyed the sunshine.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb the golden stair.

Monty woke with a start. How long had he been sleeping? It was dark now but the  tower was clearly  visible in the moonlight. Moving into the shadows, he edged his way closer, and stood up on his hind legs. A stunningly beautiful girl appeared at the window, shook out her long golden braid and a young chap shinned up the gleaming tresses and disappeared from view. Monty did a quick circuit of the tower but couldn’t find an obvious entrance. He headed back to his lodgings and thought he would have another go in the morning.

Continue reading “Brave Monty Mouse and the Damsel in Distress”