Cherrypicked stories

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Attempting a Villanelle - IP Winter

Heat is a soldier graceful in defeat, surrendering to victorious chill, No snow, no blizzard nor freezing sleet. Winter does not tolerate a retreat...
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Aura (23)

Image attribution: Wikimedia Commons Author: Blanford, William Thomas, 1888 License: CC BY-SA 3.0
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Aura (22)

Image attribution: Wikimedia Commons Author: Blanford, William Thomas, 1888 License: CC BY-SA 3.0
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Aura (21)

Image attribution: Wikimedia Commons Author: Blanford, William Thomas, 1888 License: CC BY-SA 3.0
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Tricks of the light

What’s the flickering?
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Belgrade

These streets have good bones, but the flesh is scarred.
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A Man of the Mountain - The End

Need to catch up? Link to the full collection here: https://www.abctales.com/collection/man-mountain-2018 17. The End Shirley watched from...
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The White Hand of Time

Whispering death now moves in so stealthy, Hard white in flow over field and function The baton raised over fields so wealthy, Turning red and brown...
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Closer to the Ground - A Performance Piece

https://soundcloud.com/hudsonmoon/closer-to-the-ground Closer to the ground as I grow older getting closer to the ground those little lost things now...
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London Sun

Sun spilt my path along the Dalston roads, and, I swear, some of those twenty zones and traffic lights that changed to red as I approached them made...
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Hiss, Wow and Flutter

Frankly, I don't care if you like it... as the man himself probably said. Image is in the public domain.
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The Stone of Wu Xing - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 It was a beautiful autumn day. The copse of conifers and leafy trees just outside of the little town in the empire of Tianxia was quiet...
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Gift: A Son's Story (Blood)

After mum's funeral, I continued with the clearance of her bungalow alone as my brother and his wife had gone on holiday. Lottie, one of mum's favourite personal carers, had wanted to come to mum's funeral - but then hadn't. I was a little puzzled because she was so close to mum, but thought maybe - in the end - it would have been too much for her as she'd lost her own mother only a year earlier. Later, though, the truth surfaces... and throws a whole new light on my relationship with my brother, his wife and his step-daughter.
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Christmas in Kessingland (a sestina)

A first attempt at a sestina for this week's Inspiration Point with a (slight) reference to winter.
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The Holy Sock Trilogy

PART 1 “Darn it!,” said Larry. “What?,” said Mick. “This sock which has a hole in it.” “Okay.” Mick darned the Holy Sock. PART 2 “All hail the Holy...
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What Kept Me From Wanting . . .

What kept me from wanting to die sometimes was a look on her face in the mirror It told me not to be thinking such thoughts get a grip on yourself...
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Remembering isn't enough ... (Part Two)

I have for the last few days been staying in Coverack, a small Cornish fishing village on the Lizard Peninsula. It’s not that far from my home town...
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Gift: A Son's Story (The Night Before)

After mum passed away, my brother and I had a small disagreement. Mum had always said "I'll leave this bungalow only when they carry me out in a wooden box!" I thought, then, that it was only right that she should spend her final night before the funeral there. He disagreed, and said it was better that she should stay in the Chapel of Rest, which was just along the road. He said "She's gone now. It's no longer her home." He thought it was morbid. Finally, though, he relented - after I'd persuaded him that it was a tradition in so many cultures. Also, I said, people could call and pay their last respects if they so wished. So, the night before, the coffin was brought into her lounge, and I returned to be there with it. With her. (Image: mine)

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