Culm Valley Writers

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

The tailor’s daughter

Overcome by the pleasant lassitude of a warm summer afternoon, hers was a condition of indolent indifference.

Francesca climbed up and into the hammock.

She was not inclined to sew a felled seam, the raw edges flattened, turned under, and stitched down.

The old man could repair his own trousers.

An atonal voice dredges facts and figures through my head, fudged, unfocussed. As the bee bumbles on I fidget until words morph into palms whispering on far-off shores; soft sand cushions my rump and sea-sirens sing alluringly...

I drift.

It's 9.30. I am awake. And alone.

The Three Strangers

She sips her coffee, peering askance. He lowers his book, stares. She smiles provocatively. He looks away, eyes vacant, bored.

A pretty blonde steps up. Glass quivering in mid-air, over-spilling, he ogles. She slows, grinning. He half-rises.

"Salut cherie," she breathes, sweeping past him into the arms of her beloved.

© Sheila Rogers
All rights reserved

Felled by lassitude...

The post-coital Bond stroked the honey-coloured shoulder of Gretcha Legova, an oligarch’s plaything.

His encrypted iphone buzzed. Reminder from M of Punitive Equality Realignment Values training (PERV) following strained diplomatic relations with the Swedish Ambassador, Astrid Bonk.

Pouring champagne, he texted back: Regret, tied up.

Then the bomb went off.

© Tim Scott

Felled by Lassie, chewed

B Wing, Holloway Prison

I was so sure I had got away with it. The planning meant his murder went like a dream, or so I thought. Imagine my surprise when I was caught, outwitted, brought down by the long haired legend, the criminal shame of being felled by Lassie, chewed!

© Liz Redfern

Friday, 25 May 2012

Death of the Neanderthal

Eons ago,

a windswept beach,

three strangers, enemies,

watched, in awe and dread,

as darkness fell at noon.

Beseeched restless spirits,

battle-lost, for light.

When light returned,

sliding across veined pebbles,

they linked arms and vowed a peace.

Sincere enough.

Yet peace conceived in fear

can never last.

Friday, 18 May 2012

1944, THE BEGINNING

The midwife tells Father a new life has begun

A farm; a family; mystique and sun

A land interspersed with villages named Dorps

Vultures seen hovering over a dead Zebra’s corpse

‘Fireworks’ is the horse Father has bought

His purpose is to hunt Jackal… a popular sport

Lions feed before sleeping under a tree

Savannah stretches as far as an eye can see

At night the Crickets chirp; in the day the People sing

In the distance Church bells are heard to ring

The bush is alive with insects and wild game

There’s nothing in this Country that stays the same

The picture is Africa; the decade 1940s

Long before the fight with Mugabe’s forces

THE THREE STRANGERS

The country folk gather in a barn

A stranger joins them to seek refuge from harm

A second stranger ensures wrongdoers swing

The way he conveys his message… is to sing

There’s an identity mistake; some are dismayed

The third Stranger’s hanging will be delayed

Three Strangers

Three strangers watched the farm below.

Nothing happened.

‘Remember the new barn? Horse circled for three days.’

‘Aye, but it were a fine do after she were finished. The boy climbing up here and rolling into the hedge?’

‘Cider soaked. Didna find him ‘till the morn!’

Two buzzards, floating above, watched the ancient wraiths faded away

Two Strangers

A blizzard pierced the dawn like a sword. She’d left the train, knowing the man longed for total darkness. He’d asked her to hold his hands. There was a warning bell. She was prone to blind trust. Now she stood alone in the snow. At least she was alive.