A story in exactly fifty words
Sam rested his head against her warm side, breathing in her scent. His fingers explored her body as if for the first time. During his long absence he had dreamt only of this moment.
Squeezing gently, he smiled at the soft sound of Daisy's warm milk squirting into the bucket.
All our sorrows, joys, tears and laughter will pass like clouds. This blog is dedicated to my beloved husband, Ralph, who was always the light of my life. Please feel free to comment or ask questions. I would be delighted to hear from you. Just hit the comment button below any posting. Left clicking on an image will bring it up larger in a separate window. There is a translation button (below on the right ) to enable you to read in your own language.
Followers
04 February 2011
NAKED INTO THE WORLD - A STORY IN 150 WORDS
No one but his mother had ever seen Joe naked. For many long months, he had been hidden from prying eyes but gradually, as time passed and he grew rapidly, mother introduced him to the rest of the family.
In his teens, he took up kickboxing, at which he eventually became champion, taking on all comers from the mob. Joe was fearless, and his fame spread far and wide.There came a point in time when no one would dare challenge Joe’s supremacy, while he, tiring of the sport, began to look around for a more interesting pursuit.
That’s when he met Jill. In her limpid brown eyes, Joe was lost. They became constant companions, and wandered off on their own. They were gone for many months.
In the fullness of time they returned home and settled again with the family. And nobody but Jill ever saw their new baby Joey naked.
02 February 2011
POSTCARD FROM CYDWELI CASTLE
By the wan light of sister moon
these grassy, shells of rooms.
are draped with brooding shadows.
Inside these ancient castle walls
hovering spirits whispers sibilant
songs through crumbling stones.
From the chapel anguished voices
chant requiems in eerie tones
for victims of the dread Black Death.
In the great hall, dancing ghosts,
like slowly swirling smoke,
sway trancelike to the music
of harp and lute: the scene
illumined by the flickering flames
of tar-tipped torchlight.
Incorporeal sounds press
loud upon my ear; disjointed
fragments of mediaeval airs.
Long dead knights and ladies
converse in hushed whispers
of murder and conspiracy.
A confluence of gathering
souls proclaim aloud, dark deeds
of treachery and villainy.
Outside the ramparts, thundering hooves
of wild-eyed horses conjure up
scenes of bloody, mortal combat.
High on these ramparts where banners once
these grassy, shells of rooms.
are draped with brooding shadows.
Inside these ancient castle walls
hovering spirits whispers sibilant
songs through crumbling stones.
From the chapel anguished voices
chant requiems in eerie tones
for victims of the dread Black Death.
In the great hall, dancing ghosts,
like slowly swirling smoke,
sway trancelike to the music
of harp and lute: the scene
illumined by the flickering flames
of tar-tipped torchlight.
Incorporeal sounds press
loud upon my ear; disjointed
fragments of mediaeval airs.
Long dead knights and ladies
converse in hushed whispers
of murder and conspiracy.
A confluence of gathering
souls proclaim aloud, dark deeds
of treachery and villainy.
Outside the ramparts, thundering hooves
of wild-eyed horses conjure up
scenes of bloody, mortal combat.
High on these ramparts where banners once
proudly waved the castle unfurls
its chequered history for me.
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