Pick of the day


wild yellow, bold, bee-full, gladsome glory

yellow glowing gifts grow, spirit lifting

sweet, small yellow flames, lip-soft, scented, bright

tip dull green furze billows. Always yellow

flower kisses - light distilled,  yellow, clear

strong, dearer than gold, yellow, flaunting joy

cold undaunted, jaunty power, yellow

grace. If you seek Heaven, gorse yellow's close

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Story of the week


He went back into the fire for her.  That’s what it comes down to and what haunts me and what presses down on me like sacks of lead.  He went back in there for her.  I tried to stop him.  God only knows I did.Read more

Poem of the week

No Love Song

Short and perhaps saccharine, but I don't care...

Image is from Pixabay and is free of copyright issues.

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Story and Poem of the Week and Inspiration Point

Before I get onto the Picks of the Week, I'd just like to ask all of you to make sure the email addresses on your accounts are current and functioning.

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Disoccidented by Alfie Shoyger: A Review

I've been asked to share this review Alfie Shoyger received for his first colle

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We have had to suspend the automatic joining facility for a while so if you would like to join us please email admin@abctales.com with your desired username and we will set up an account for you. It's all free!

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Many thanks to Alfie Shoyger for March's slightly delayed Poetry Monthly:

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Our Story and Poem for the month of February very kindly chosen by Jolono:


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I Dreamt I Wrote Another Me by Alex Smith (london_calling79). Out Now!

The latest release by Cerasus Press - ' I Dreamt I Wrote Another Me' by Alex Smith has just been published.


You can order your copy here:


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Bee's Journey

Picks of the Month

La Femme d'argent

How could I forget the autumn of 1998, and that weekend in Paris?  A sullen, funereal mist folded around the city for the entire three days, fallen gold-and-brown leaves sticking to the soles of our shoes as we walked along the Quai de la Megisserie, gently mocking the efforts of the street artists lining the pavement. We climbed the Eiffel Tower, only to see nothing but a blanket of spectral grey from the top.

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the more people run away

the less there is to escape to


the more  beauty we buy

the less room we have for truth


we fuel our vehicles with tomorrows

trying to find somewhere like yesterday






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