Hey, I have published a small poetry collection on amazon, called Inner Nature. The theme is centered on inner and outer environments, some of which are written from the perspective of nature, while others are based on past personal challenges, and ends with an emphasis on unity and light. Several of the poems have appeared in various anthologies over a ten year period. Want to thank abctales for the confidence boosting cherries! Thanks, Donna.

Gavin Francis tells us of his love affair with islands and maps. And he traces his addiction to a district library in Fife he visited as a child aged eight or nine. How his little fingers traced patterns over atlas and archipelagos ‘as if reading Braille’. As an adult he had to choose between studying medicine, or becoming a geographer. A romantic notion to which I say, you’re a fucking liar, but hey, we all tell fibs. It’s how you tell them...

I don’t know how Ian McVeigh got the name Clank, but he was the Clank Gable of Dalmuir, only he seemed to pop up everywhere, like God or the Devil. I hadn’t, for example, been in the John Rea’s snooker hall in years (obviously, before lockdown) I turned around and Clank was standing behind me. I went to the Dropp Inn and Clank was playing pool. Later I headed to the Mountie and Clank Gable turned up. Clank didn’t as much stalk you as wear you...

Another week in paradise - oh well, at least we have writing and reading to help us through tough times. Thank you to all of you have contributed this week - you do more good than you know. Poem of the week is a dark one - but anxiety is running high and I think many of us can relate -many thanks to London_Calling for Run: https://www.abctales.com/story/londoncalling79/run We've had a few darkly funny stories this week (big thank you to...

I live in Dalmuir, but my brother who lives in Falkirk phoned me to tell me that John Mitchell was dead. Then the house phone went and my partner’s niece, Caroline, phoned to let me know John Mitchell was dead. I dropped in on old John Brady, he’s in his eighties and the first thing he told me was John Mitchell was dead. I parked at Parkhall shops on the jaggy lines you’re not meant to park on, but it was OK, cause I was only going to be a...

At just over 650 pages this offers a comprehensive account of Grigory Efimovich Rasputin’s life and deaths. Deaths—plural. Most of us are familiar with the legend that Rasputin was poisoned, shot and finally drowned. His bound hands still clawing underneath the ice. Radzinsky takes the reader through different versions, but with the same outcome. Rasputin was murdered. The question of why he was murdered in much the same way that the tsar,...

Way back in the music history of the 1980s, a lady called Audrey Hall had a one-hit-wonder with a song called 'One Dance Won't Do'. You may remember it? If not, you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pbWf5tb_CA I've come to the conclusion that I can sympathise with her! Not in terms of dancing, one dance with me would be more than enough for anyone! No, I'm thinking, instead, about readers and, in particular, a couple who have...

‘A young woman tells you what she’s “learned”. Learned is kinda ironic, I guess. I’m Scottish, not sure who Lena Dunham is, but it tells me on the cover she’s the Creator and Star of HBO’s Girls . That helps. I imagine it’s a successful comedy franchise in America and it involves Girls. When I check her biography I find her show has won a stack of international awards and she has too. Lucky her. I guess that goes with the territory of the...

The 2020 Cerasus Poetry Olympics took place as scheduled in July and the final results were: Gold Medal - Mark Kilburn Silver Medal - Sophie Norton Bronze Medal - John Gallas Laurel Wreath - India Halstead Poetry collections by each of the winners will be published in due course, plus a special souvenir compilation featuring the best poems by all entrants. Regular ABCtales will recognise that the Gold Medal Winner is aka Kilb50. *** CERASUS...

We’re all aware that with great power comes great responsibility, after all these were the lines mouthed by Batman with the pointy ears before he jumped off a tall building. The moron’s moron, who anybody with any sense would like to see jumping from a tall building, reaches new lows in grasping one and abdicating the other. But that’s another story unless the moron’s moron stumbles into an Armageddon strategy to remain power, a historical aside...