A Fairy Is Born

Blow the bubbles, 

And look carefully 

Can you see 

The delicate wing of a little fairy ?

For every time a bubble is created 

The mummy fairies giggle,all excited 

Cos they have waited and waited, 

For the magical soapy bubbles to be sighted !

Look at the bubbles can't you see 

The birthing of a tiny fairy 

      The rainbow colours dancing in the light 

Are the tiny wings of a little sprite!

So blowing bubbles isn't just for fun 

It's the start of a fairies life 

 That's only just begun 

So blow your bubbles and you will see 

The tiny delicate wings, 

Of a brand new fairy! 

Submitted to Bluebell Books  Story Slam 

A Magical Mystery Tour

A Magical Mystery Tour 

A magical mirage lives inside my head 

A place serene,green a proper homestead,

A babbling brook saunters along. 

Running over rocks creating  it's song ,

The air oozes freshness and perfume 

from blossoms so sweet, 

Where song birds sing their melodies 

tweet tweet tweet

A magical mirage lives inside my head 

A house so perfect not fashion led, 

A picket fence surrounds the lawn, 

Where the sun rises at the crack of dawn 

Puppies leap and the chickens cluck, 

Butterflies flutter and run amock to the rap 

cluck cluck cluck.

A magical mirage lives inside my head 

A comforting ,soft, protective, huge bed, 

Velvets and silks adorn our room, 

Love and serenity the only things that loom

Where you and I lovingly embrace, 

Under a mystical moon as we lie face to face, 

Hearts together in sync beating, 

boom boom boom 

This magical mystery tour you have taken 

Is in my head don't be mistaken, 

For if there was a heaven on earth,

For me to live there, would be my rebirth,

And if this wish was ever granted, 

 This is what would be forever chanted 

I should be so lucky, 

lucky, lucky, lucky . 

Submitted to :  IN TANDEM where art and pictures are used as the prompts check it out for more interpretations of this piece of Art 

I Don't Like Mondays

I Don't Like Mondays 

Banksy

 On one side of a our globe 

A baby stirs, yawns, 

Safe from every tiny microbe, 

The sun rises, Monday dawns 

On green mowed and tended lawns. 

The other side of our globe

A child stirs, stomach aching, 

Attacked by every tiny microbe, 

The sun rises, Monday's baking

On children hunger fuelled awakenings.

Mondays may fill us with dread, 

With the whole working week looming ahead, 

So take heed and keep in your mind, 

The life of a child across the world, 

Not just Monday, But a daily grind 

Their struggle to remain alive

 Survive !

Save The Children

Submitted to dVerse Poets Pub where great poems await ready to share ! 

Regretfully Yours !

Regretfully Yours !

Dark, deep regret, 

Who does it beget? 

Just me and you 

We've found one another, 

Forsaken all others 

so hell yeah !

Explore my history 

But no regrets 

Let them remain a mystery!

It pointless to rake over the past, 

Regrets are lessons that last

They've shape my being  

It's me your seeing 

so hell yeah !

Explore my history, 

But no regrets, 

Allow that mystery. 

Regrets no longer, 

For everything we do now, 

Together, cements us stronger, 

Truth now is our sacred cow 

so hell yeah! 

We'll share our mysteries 

No regrets 

We'll  rewrite our new history. 

Escape

ESCAPE !

  Heart gently captured,

Love grown ,nurtured

Contact flesh to flesh,

Voices lively and fresh,

Physically alive,

   Thoughts allowed to thrive,

Escape not an option !

Honey moon finished

Love diluted, diminished,

Contact sporadic,

Voices but only periodic,

Physically dying,

Mentally inside crying,

Escape not an option !

Relationship illiterate,

Self esteems obliterated,

Contact only bone to bone,

Voices screaming in angry tones,

Physically battered,

Thoughts, mentally splattered

Escape not an option!

The final straw broken,

Bruises the only token,

Contact not an option,

Less talk, more action

Physically drained ,

Only one thought now ingrained,

Escape is the only option! 

The Source 1862 By Gustave Courbet

This is an entry for the Mookychick blogging competition, FEMINIST FLASH FICTION 2011.  Enter Now

A Fairy Tale (Childs Lit )

A Fairy Tale 

Margaret Bednar

Marshmallow clouds in a vanilla sky 

Surround a sugar castle

The colour of cherry pie 

At it's door there stands proud, 

Unicorns who have vowed 

To protect the fairies

Who come to play 

With the buzzing bees

That dance and buzz all day. 

Within the pink sugar castle. 

A princess excitedly awaits 

Her prince charming 

To arrive for their dinner date 

Where  penguins on skates 

Serve their meal off ice crystal plates

The skinny little crickets will play their wings 

Making summer music 

While love birds chirp along and sing.

Prince charming will kneel 

Take his Princess by her delicate hand, 

He'll ask her then to be Queen in this wonderful fairy land 

The buzzing bees and fairies will dance 

While those magical unicorns will daintily prance 

In the garden of their sugar candy castle 

Found in the fluffy marshmallow clouds

Where only very, very, happy fairy tales are allowed !

Submitted to In Tandem

For more Fab Fairy Tales check out Life is Yipees!!!!!

Bridging The Gap

I have always been fascinated by Bridges and think this one is particularly beautiful I found these pictures which have been painted as a mural at Harvey Nichols in Bristol .

Bridging The Gap 

Mural situated in Harvey Nichols Bristol 

There in all your majesty, steel and cables 

Surveying lives and history

People crossed over, 

They communicated and bartered,

Underneath cargo passed in ships 

In full sail, sometimes chartered

Bridging areas yet uncharted. 

Built  for domestic economy,

Giving  Bristol more autonomy,

In times when ships carried wines and slaves. 

They bridged the enclaves and gorge 

With cables and steel, which they had forged, 

Bridging societies and economy .

Your  beauty and  majestic splendour 

Now forever ours ,to admire and devour, 

Your cables stretched and strained 

Between those two sturdy towers 

When things were constructed for industry

Bridging the gap from history.

Above now hot air balloons 

Seasonally float by like sky flowers

People still admire the engineering feat

Art, society, history all converge and meet

Bridging the gaps seems now complete !

 More : INFO for Clifton Suspension Bridge
Submitted to :Gooseberry Goes Poetic whose theme was object 

Train of Thought

Train Of Thought 

Overcrowded Train 

Chit,.. chat,.. chit... chat. 

Wheels of life moving, 

Staying on track 

Chit ,chat, chit ,chat.  

Chug chug chugging, 

Tracks of society, 

Over rule natures priority 

Chug chug chugging

Ra di Boom Ra di Boom

Humanity coming of  the rails, 

Morality sinking, filling up jails 

Ra di Boom Ra di Boom 

Ding ding ding a dong 

Journey almost ended 

Natures poorly tended 

Ding ding ding a dong 

Screech screech halt, 

Devastation is our fault

Reverse the trend, 

Or its journeys end 

Screech .......screech...... HALT !

 Submitted for : dVerse Poetics  where poets share their creativity plenty more to explore 

Cheese (Childs Lit )

Cheese

Cheese 

Just say cheese

Please Oh Please 

A cheesy grin 

It's not a sin 

To make a smile 

It's not a trial 

just wait for the flash 

then you can dash 

of to play 

for the rest of the day 

just say cheese please 

all mummies and daddies 

will make this plea 

Just say Cheese...... pleaseeeeee !!!!

Submitted to Bluebell Books Short-Story-Slam-Week-10      

Space Cleaner

Space Cleaner 

Belgium Street Art 

Is it gonna take a space warrior ? 

To clean up our bricked corridors 

To rid society of all its spills, 

Of  media garbage,and governments bitter pills,

Of societies that consume and consumes. 

Turning our world into a ineffective sickroom .

Is it going to take Darth Vadar ,

To take the bugs from our mental radars, 

Should we be left without any immunity ?

Cleanse society, but destroy humanity, 

We'll have to take control of the filter, 

 The world then will remain on kilter.

Submitted to : dVersepoets  for Open link night in the Poets Pub 

Grandads Knee

Grandads Knee

My granddaddy always said to me 

You wait until your thirty three 

You'll have some little'uns of your own

Your little princess or prince will sit upon this throne, 

This throne that's reserved just for you

Till childhood fairyland bids adieu.                                                      

So upon his knee I'd clumsily scramble,

Listening to his stories and rambles, 

His stories were off  far of lands, 

Of fairy queens, her kingdom and commands, 

The only wish he had for me 

Was I be as happy as happy as I could be.

On his throne that was his knee,

My childhood was like a fantasy, 

No seat ever has replaced that spot

That I'd climb upon as a tiny, tiny, tot 

Perhaps if grandaddies knees  were the law 

I'd still see my fantasy lands of wonder and awe 

 

 Submitted to : Jingle Poetry

Tis The Season To Decorate

Tis The Season to Decorate 

Decorate the world, 

with russet leaves 

that swirl in a colder breeze, 

Jump in a mound of crispy vegetation 

that carpets our nation. 

Decorate the night, 

crisp, cold, starry, ones 

 and burning, woody fires, 

Huddle round its flames, 

See in your mind eye what transpires 

Decor is all around 

Colours all to be found 

In our autumnal spell,

before our winter 

and the peek of the first bluebell. 

Submitted to :In Tandem whose picture was the prompt 

Zen Fountains

In memory of all victims of 9/11 and for those who have lost their lives since trying to protect our freedom 

Zen Fountains 

Concrete mountains.

replaced by fountains

Soothing Zen like trickling noise

Unable to drown out memories

Of terrorist attacks from other countries  

Concrete mountains,

Replaced by fountains

Unable to ease away the pain

Felt by relative of victims

Whose lives were erased by planes.

Concrete mountains

Replaced by fountains

Soothing Zen like noise

Wars still rage in this age,

Lives still lost by Soilder boys.

Concrete mountains still remain,

Are zen like fountains all in vain ?

 Submitted to :Dverse Poets Poetics  for the theme of  In Memoriam

Silence Is Golden

Silence Is Golden

Charlie Chaplin In The Kid


In times of Old
Movies were entertainment gold,
No sound or special effects
Filmed only in a two
Dimensional aspect.

In black and white
Life was only wrong or right
No grey or in between
What you got,
Is what could be seen.

No politically correct rules
Actors could play the fool
With waifs and strays
No interfering busy bodies,
 To allay

Those old silent movies,
Still have a hold on us, that is kind of groovy.
The actors have become iconic,
The  movies minus vocals,
Subtle, yet ironic.

Actions still speak louder than words ! 

Submitted to dVerse Poets Poetics On the theme of Silent Films

The Lament

The Lament 
A very short story

Art at google.com


Each night she stood reminiscing that final farewell,in her memory the mighty ship stole away her beau. Beneath her,course grains scratched at the soles of her feet yet in her mind tortured thoughts of all those 'what ifs' rattled constantly in her head, As the ship had sailed away she swore she saw angels perched upon the mast, this reassured her their love would forever last, and it had, it was an everlasting love that would last longer than she .She caressed the soft mound forming under the dress she had made for the day of their church union, but he had left his seed within her and though they were parted they would meet again in heaven till then she would nurture and love there child away from the sea, away from the lure of her lovers last mistress and with this thought she threw her bouquet to her watery rival and never again looked back . 

Submitted to Gooseberry Garden
Submitted to Bluebell Short  Story Slam wk 9

Dreams For Sale

Dreams for Sale 

If dreams were sold, 

What stories would be told ? 

A bedraggled street urchin 

Dining at the Ritz for Luncheon?

If dreams were sold, 

What transgressions could unfold ?

A remedy to untruths and lies,

Even truth in politics made to apply !

If dreams could be sold 

What could we do with unlimited gold ?

Destroy our moral being, 

See all of humanity fleeing ! 

If dreams could be sold, 

What would happen to all the old ? 

Driven to maintain our looks and youth,

Or would indifference become our truth ? 

If I could buy a dream,

It would be to mend humanities seams,

Let all suffering and fighting cease, 

Bring about moral and spiritual peace. 

Dreams should be our reality 

When it comes to societies humanity. 

Freedom and peace should be a given!

Until this end we as a race should all be driven!  

Freedom, Peace and good health, 

Should not depend on monetary wealth

The whole mixture of mankind 

Should ensure this elixir is assigned 

To The World !

This photograph was taken by Amy Shepherd In Southville Bristol UK the artist though is unknown