Here Ends The First Lesson.

‘Anne, What if we chose not to feed that bird,’ Daddy pointed, ‘because it has a yellow beak? None with yellow beaks.’ Mummy joined in, ‘We could tell everyone how wicked the yellow beaked ones were, they would copy,and soon there would be nowhere for them to go.’ Tears welled in Anne’s eyes, her lip trembled. She stood, her eyes swollen with unshed tears. “No! Everybody needs kindness, you always tell me that. I will be very cross and sad if you do. Please don’t.’ They hugged her, assured her she was right not to discriminate.

Charli Mills set this challenge at the ranch as set out below. June 4, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about justice for all. It does not have to take place in America. Injustice exists anywhere. What is the story behind justice for all? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by June 9, 2020. To read or join in press the blue.

Press here

I believe tackling justice for all #BlackLivesMatter needs to begin at the knee of families. My response is, to show how we all can nurture our young to become a better race.

I am still unsure if my take on the prompt is worthy of such a profoundly emotional subject.

Please leave your thoughts in the comments below.

Fears and Parinoia

Picture Prompt, copyright belongs to Roger Bultot

Graffiti covered barred windows held back his fears. His pantry stuffed to the brim. Melons, grapes, mangos, legumes … the list goes on. It began with Brexit.
The worry burrowed like a disease in his brain. He became panicked at the thoughts that filled his head; day and night. Not sleeping, it stole any semblance of rational

Family, neighbours, friends all tried, but still he hoarded all the things he could not grow. Convinced that only chlorinated Chicken and produce laced with corn syrup and squeezy cheese would be on the shelves after Brexit. Resulting in a slowly fermenting unappetizing  soup.


This is a Friday Fictioneers prompt   press to join in.

Hoaxes And Angry Penguins

GO HERE To read about the Hoax, And to see the picture source.

Follow this link to join in or read other responses to the terrible poetry competition.

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 2/29 – 3/6/2020

Beneath is The Sacrilege of mixing Rebecca Hilare Belloc With WH Auden.

The Funeral.

Stop the clocks cut off the telephone.

Prevent the dog barking

With a juicy bone.

A trick that everyone abhors

In little girls is slamming doors.

Silence the piano

With a muffled drum.

Slap that girl on the bum.

Bring out the coffin

Let the mourners come.

She would deliberately go

Slam the door like billy-ho.

To make her uncle Jacob start

She wasn’t really bad at heart.

He was my north my South

East and West.

My working week

My Sunday rest.

The funeral sermon

(Which was long

And followed by

a sacred song)

I thought love

Would last

Forever

I was

Wrong.

My Poetic explanation of The Great Austrailian Literrary Hoax.

A Sister wrote of her brothers passing

She sent his poetry for an editor to peruse

Not knowing the lot was a terrible ruse.

The Penguins were angry, who was the culprit

The Catholic church roared from the pulpit.

It bought down the wrath of the literary giant

When the hoax was revealed they became silent.

They had penned a collection of modernist rhyme

They made up a sister and gave him not much time.

Duplicitously they staged Ern’s demise, Graves disease

Both James McAuley and and Harold Stewart did freeze,

When eventually Ern Malley became more famous than they

His literary prowess like the phoenix raises its head still today.

Do follow the link If you do not know the story Chelsea Anne Owens explains it simply.

As the badge of honour suggests it was indeed a successful attempt at produduce a poem using the Hoaxers formulation .

Did I succeed? in my mix, to deliver the most terrible poem in your eyes? leave me a comment and I will get right back.

An Awful Anniversary Assembly.

Sixty years, well here’s to it, I raise a glass; into it, I spit.

Jerk my head to call him near, passed his glass feigned a cheer.

He swallowed with greed; saliva and all. I curl my lip; soon he’ll fall.

A drunk, a bully full of hate; tonight, they will see his colours

spread out on the dinner plate. I served tripe and jellied eels.

This food, both banal and grey; like him, had seen a better day.

I smile at those around my cloth. His cronies and the hangers-on

those that doff their cap, those that think him a super chap.

“Please sit” I cry. Having previously dressed his tripe

with little crushed garlic to disguise the arsenic’s taste.

It was with finality he gorged in ungentlemanly haste.

Today my cynical response to the terrible poetry prompt. It takes me to a sixtieth Anniversary gathering. I hope you enjoy. Please leave me a comment I simply love to talk.

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 2/22 – 2/28/2020
https://chelseaannowens.com/2020/02/29/the-weekly-terrible-poetry-contest-2-29-3-6-2020/

A little classroom Protest.

In 99 words, no more or less, by the 21st January write using the prompt ‘Protest’ 📚 press the pile of books to join in at Charli’s place or to read some amazing responses … after the 21st.

“Quiet!” shouted Miss Brooks, “Okay Girls, hands up if you think you’re the weaker sex.” Shouts, and stomping shoes echo. Her voice raised, her palm hit the desk. A puddle formed in her eye, she grabbed her hands rubbing vigorously, as a drip plopped against her lip. Her tongue, snatched it away unseen, while she counted raised hands.”Please miss,” eyes swivel, and I colour. “I think it depends if they smack the desk harder than you.” The noise level climbed. “It isn’t gender or braun that predicts strength, but Emotional intelligence Miss, females win that every time.”

tough one this week, the lone voice stood up for what she believes is right. Do you think the question should even be asked? Have you ever spoke up, voiced your opinion? Answers in the comments i can’t wait to reply.

Nothing. Rag Tag Daily Prompt.

To read or visit other responses press This “empty”

2020-01-16 101511055064..jpeg

Nothing, an empty desk, a crowded head,

Rumpled sheets on an empty bed.

A void, a hole, another missed goal.

A black cloud in a sunny space,

 A blank look, on an expressionless face.

An empty cupboard, an empty purse,

Hollow meannings in a hollow verse.

No energy to pick up my pen,

To use it for judging men.

An empty shell,

Nothing left

Just me,

Bereft.

 

A burst of verse, in response to the prompt. First I had to feel the word, have empathy, then … if I was nothing … what would I be? I am fortunately, not nothing. But did you like what I penned, was it fit for purpose? Let me know in the comments. I am full of chat. 😆😉

Misconceptions of what makes a good Wife.

We worked hard, determined I was, not to be ‘A Carried Wife.’ More worried about other’s perceptions, I got it wrong. Because he was a lawyer, earning big, didn’t mean people would expect me to slack. Engrossed in that thought, I took my eye of of the ‘us.’
Not seeing his palor, hearing that cough. I failed as his wife. Each night I fell into bed shattered, not fit for the part. Worked, unaware of his appointments. I didn’t hold his hand, wipe his head. Here I am now, clutching a cold yellowed hand, wishing … it wasn’t his deathbed.

Written in response to the picture prompt set at Charli’s Carrot ranch. Thank you for having me back. If you want to give her challenges a go, press the horse 🐎

Please comment I love to talk.

My response to The Word of the Day #Guidance.

The last Sunday before Christmas and as you can see the word is Guidance. Actually, this is my first foray in to the daily prompt site. Any of you readers, story tellers or bloggers can join in … by pressing ➡ Here! ⬅.

This year, the spirit of Christmas has been aloof. On Friday, yes 22nd December. I finally made an attempt to decorate for the festivities. Random visitors, maybe popping over to see us during the time between 22nd and 2nd of January we need to be welcoming, and have made the effort.
This year, there is no formal gathering of the clans. No, ‘Our Christmas.’ No magnificent meal for 21, including seven Grand children aged between nine months and fourteen years and two dogs. No wild inappropriate jokes to laugh at, and no story telling or present gifting to the Grandchildren under our roof … next to our tree. All of which we love doing and having; as we did last year. But this year, we are at the youngest daughters for Christmas lunch, at the eldest daughters for New years eve. All gifting will happen on doorsteps Christmas eve, but we won’t get to see the opening, the bright eyes, the ohhhs and ahhs of excitement only found at the point of the opening. Unfortunately, we only fit that amount of excitement, chairs tables and laughterand food , in our house … on a seperate day, ‘Our Christmas.’

Families, often have absent Mothers or Fathers, in-laws, step sisters and brothers. Extra Grandparents, uncles, Aunts and pets. They all are missed by someone … if away from home. It is just the way life is. To accommodate all, under one roof at the same time is nigh on impossible. Though we try, we invairiably miss out someone, an ex Husband that you cannot bring yourself to even pretend for a day to want under your roof, or a miserable Aunt, or the nephew that gets raucous after a tott or two … and has been known to moon at the people passing by the window, who unsuspectantly get a shock going home from church. Morbid Malcom, who wishes his time had passed, and voices such, every fiftythree minutes; once fuelled with Sandyman’s Port, or Harveys Bristol Cream..

It would be unkind to want everyone to fit in with us. Not every year. When have what we call ‘our Christmas’ which is at a date somewhere between 25th Dec and 7th January. Depending on when we can get most people to be … at the same place and same time. Most of the food (prepped by me) is cooked by ‘The Husband’ who stubbornly refuses assistance, until clearing up time at least. As you may realise by now, we are missing it, before we would have had it. I wish I had seeked out some guidance before saying “Not this year.” Truth be told we have both had obstacles during the year, and I felt, it would be too much, both for him, and me.

So up went the tree, cards were written, parcels purchased and wrapped, all in four days. I will bake a special cake for the four Grandchildren at our eldest sons house and deliver cake and gifts Tuesday morning. Christmas day’s desert I will bake on Tuesday evening, while ‘The Husband’ delivers gifts to the youngest son’s home and two more Grandchildren. Christmas will be on time, with nobody missed. All will be wonderful, in it’s special Christmas day slot, this time with our youngest Grandson George; seeing his first Christmas day.

Let us hope for a healthy New Year. Maybe, just maybe, I should have listened to my own guidance. Another year we will accept the help of everyone. It would be better than not have one at all. We, after all, can only do it as long as we are still here.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Have a cool yule Solstice, Enjoy your festival of light and Hanukkah. Any other beliefs I have missed out please forgive me, and please, have a peaceful new year.

What do you do for Christmas? Let me know in the comments. 🎄🎅🧚‍♀️