Five little ducks went out one day Over the hills and far away.. Mother duck said quack, quack, quack But only one little duck came back This little duck wore a crown that day Made of feathers that once said quack Little duck said quack, quack, quack And he became a king, so they say they say
A day spent at the beach, pretending to be mermaids in a vast universe of possibilities and sea dreams. Plain tea in cupfuls in a dingy student canteen with a side dish of a miniature spicy roti and conversation. A bike ride on a river bank while the sun set and the moon rose on either side of your ...
Just weeks before my wedding Butterflies haunted me. One rested on the wall next to my bed. He was white with delicate pink and yellow patterns outlined in a rich dark blue. He kept me company while I sank into the world of Hemingway. He was right beside me when I chased hunters in Africa, watched bull fights and sobbed ...
He sat up and lit a cigarette. His left eye reflected the light in a shade of infernal red. For a moment he looked like the devil in disguise with sleek long hair and nerdy specs. The smell of tobacco clung to the thick air of the room. The smell of enticement (for her). He sat on his bed naked ...
Gib stared at the swirls of pink and orange tinged with gold against a pale blue background in amazement. He sank his feet deeper into the soft and slightly moist stuff he was standing on. His uncut mop of hair flew in the air, each strand playing ‘tangles’ with the others. The strong, unruly body of water in front of ...
Liann grabbed a mangrove to stop herself from falling flat onto the muddy sand as she stepped out of her boat. She felt relief flood over her whole body as her two feet sank into the sandy coolness, her headache began to ease and her eyes began to adjust to the shade after hours of exposure to bright sunlight. She ...
Lighting bugs flickered from leaf to leaf. The dying fire crackled sending forth jaded wisps of smoke. Monk lay on his old blanket that smelt of egg sandwiches, staring into the cobalt blue sky, trying to catch stars with his mind’s eye. Unclear thoughts kept distracting him. He shook his head from side to side, to clear his brain and ...
It was a dark evening and rain had ceased just a moment ago, when a grey star disturbed a little kitten’s contemplation of the road in front of her. The grey star fell on the little kitten’s beige back. Annoyed at being rudely disturbed, she shook herself and meowed. The star fell onto the concrete slab beneath the kitten’s stack ...
Hope waited deep inside the box That Zeus gave to Pandora Scheming with all its might Suffused with seductive charm It waited It tried once Twice and then thrice And on the fourth Try It won the game of wills Seduced and blind She opened the box Letting Hope escape With a grin and a half Hope let its children ...
There once was a spirit who carried a heavy bucket Filled to the brim with gems of sorts One by one she picked out the gems They shone bright in the spirit’s gaze Held each one with tender care Savoured the warmth and the brightness rare With each chime of the clocks of the world The gem in hand ...
Wisdom hides amongst the most mundane of things In a withering bush near a car park In a foolish movie for the masses In a cup of tea and an invisible storm Rising above the filthy mud Of day to day living
On a clear day when the fickle mist lifts, you may catch a glimpse of the true face of the mountain. There will be countless green trees, heavy, moss covered rocks, tiny creatures and mounds and mounds of dirt. And if you are absolutely noiseless, you may hear even the gentlest rustle created by wind and manifested through things substantial ...
The tea-cup rattled in its saucer, spilling a splash of dirty brown liquid on to pristine pink and white. “That is undrinkable. You know how I hate a mess” screeched Jay. His wife’s expression remained passive as she removed the offending cup from the window sill and took mincing steps towards her kitchen. (She heard the familiar low growl coming ...
Wisdom hides amongst the most mundane of things In a withering bush near a car park In a foolish movie for the masses In a cup of tea and an invisible storm Rising above the filthy mud Of day to day living
My friend the misogynist Holds meetings in his head Bashing the women in red For being feminists Heeee should go soak up the sun Stop telling everyone to be Assholes…. I wrote these lines following a chaotic meeting inside my own head. The words are passive aggressive and offensive, I admit. I am no better than ‘my friend the misogynist’ ...
The pirate asked the captain Would you stop shams? To survive on clams Priced from a rock Set in the vast sea? Would you embark On a shipping spree To thwart guilt by saving a shark? Would you forgo a drink Of the most expensive wine To dance with gods On a woodland brink On a serene night The Captain cocked his unibrow!
Life is a strange abiding A place to live, grow and thrive (And aspire for dispassion) A glimpse of victory A glimpse of failure A drought wrought in a dust cloud Followed by a rain soaked breeze
They lived in paradise, where swirls of creamy clouds tinged with rose sought each other out in a backdrop of pale bluegreen and where witches made fragrant concoctions of spices to fill the days. Their skies were blue, foliage abundant, food delicious and the weather was just right. Their beloved or otherwise land was full ofspice trees, shrubs, vines and ...
