Writing Challenges
Posted in Mundane Monday : Photography /Poetry /Humour
“I now find magic in the mundane.
I’m also more creative –
better able to look beyond the obvious and
come up with new story angles.”
Deborah Norville
Freaky for Mundane Monday
Riding through the centre
Without much notion
Happy may they be
As far as you and I can see
But be careful there not to flee
Or you may end up crazy
Posted in the Daily Post : Tiny : Photograph, Poetry and Humour
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark”
Dante Alighieri
Tiny Things
Tiny things
On the windowsill
Standing quite still
Posted in the Daily Post : Tiny : Photograph, Poetry and Humour
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark”
Dante Alighieri
Tiny Things
Tiniest Queen
Made,
For you and me
With a royal wave
Oh,
Just behave!
Posted in the Daily Post : Tiny : Photograph, Poetry and Humour
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark”
Dante Alighieri
Tiny Things
The tiny carrier
Breaks the barriers
A beast of burden
Quite determined
Posted in the Daily Post : Tiny : Photograph, Poetry and Humour
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark”
Dante Alighieri
Tiny Things
“The Tiny Elvis
Has left the building”
Posted in the Daily Post : Tiny : Photograph, Poetry and Humour
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark”
Dante Alighieri
Tiny Things
Tiny in size
Two of a kind
In a meeting
Of the minds
Posted in the Daily Post : In The Style Of : Tales of the odd and unexpected
“There’s no way to remove the observer – us – from our perceptions of the world” Stephen Hawking
The Observer
I was sitting in the coffee shop, my well-deserved latte in front of me. I was content in emerging into my daily readings on my tablet, but for some reason my eyes kept wandering to the hassle in the bar. Patrons were leaving and new ones were stepping into the shop.
‘Why not!’ I thought. I could play the part of the observer for a little while before continuing my own tasks. Who knows, maybe I would pick up an idea or two for my next writing project.
Sipping my coffee, I noticed the young couple in the corner booth. They were enjoying each others’ company, looking each other in the eye, no words were spoken. New love was in the air.
Feeling like a peeping Tom, I search for something else to gaze upon. My eyes were scanning the room and landed on a woman with three offspring. The mother was deep in thought, or so it seemed, reading the newspaper while her children were throwing napkins, straws and other small items at each other. I wondered how she managed to turn off the surroundings. The patrons at the next table however were not so lucky. Shaking their heads, they grabbed their orders and moved to another table at the farther end the coffee shop.
I laughed a little at the scene played out before me. Good thing I had been thinking ahead and chose the solitary spot close to the windows in the corner. I had a clear view of the whole establishment, but I was also able to concentrate on my reading if I wanted to.
I thought to seek out one more scene before tuning myself out. I noticed the waitresses behind the bar having a heated conversation. I was not able to hear what they were talking about, but clearly the other one was angry about something and kept on ranting, while the other one was just listening in. Wide eyed, nodding every now and again. The angry one was waving her arms in the air, while the quiet one remained stationary, her hands seemed almost glued to her sides. It seemed from an observer’s perspective, the ranter was in charge in that particular relationship, while the listener did just that and probably agreed to everything the ranter told her.
I lost my interest after a little while and noticed the coffee house getting emptier. Guess the rush was over and I could get back to my reading.
Posted in the Daily Post : In The Style Of : Tales of the odd and unexpected
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” Charles Dickens
Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?
The year was 1845. I was about ten years of age and working as a stable girl. Our family lived and worked in Lord Hamilton’s manor house. It was Christmas time and as a gift for the servants, the Lord arranged a feast for the staff and their families.
Mommy had the children dressed in their Sunday best. My two brothers were complaining about the stiffness of the shirts. Starch was itchy and could cause rash, especially if one scratched the itch.
I had my favourite dress on and my younger sister was a bit jealous of the red and green colouring. She was wearing a plain blue coloured hand me down.
After all the fuzz and hassle with the wardrobe, the whole family was finally set to go to the main house and start with the Christmas dinner. Us servants would be dining in the large kitchen. Several long tables were brought in with extra seats as well. This wasn’t a large household. With around fifteen servants and their families, well not all had children and spouses, all in all around sixty people in total crammed around the tables. The two cooks had had their hands full with the preparations and naturally every one that could had chipped in.
But now it was time for celebration. Everyone was finally sitting down and getting quiet. After grace the noise level rose again. Food containers were passed around and everyone was filling their respective plates. After all, it wasn’t often we got to eat in this manner and variety.
After a while, everyone had cleared their plates and it was time for dessert. My favourite was the Figgy Pudding. If possible I opted for seconds. As I got my plate of the delicious substance before me, I licked my lips and dug into it with gusto. It did not take too long for the food to disappear from my plate.
My mom looked at me with a smirk. I looked back at her and passing my bowl I asked: “Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?”
I was smiling widely, feeling exhilarated, when the bowl was passed back to me with an other helping.
When the final bits were eaten, it was time for the traditional sing along. The farmhand brought out his accordion and after the first few tunes, we all joined in. The evening was spent singing, chatting and finally picking up the tables. We all went back to our dwellings, thanking the Lord for the special meal.
Merry Pudding and God bless us everyone!
Posted in the Daily Post : In The Style Of : Tales of the odd and unexpected
“When I was kid, my social network was called ‘outside’ “
Back in Time
This is the work one of pure fiction. Neither polar bears nor reindeer were harmed in the creation of this literary process!
The year was 1924.
Longitude and latitude: Somewhere up north, thataway! The Finnish Lapland would probably be the most accurate location for this tale.
How old was I?
I guess I was somewhere between ten and twelve years of age. In those days, people were born and they died. No one really bothered with the record keeping. Lord knows there were plenty of us to go around.
Despite the fact it was close to midsummer, there was still snow on the ground. The reindeer and polar bears were roaming the streets while us kids were running around, having snowball fights. That is, during the minimum spare time we had between school, chores and work. Sleeping in those days was a luxury. Sometimes we had a full night’s sleep, sometimes the watch duty fell on my plate and I needed to stay up all night. Luckily, coffee had been invented ten years prior and we were all pretty much hooked on the sweet dark liquid.
Our housing for the winter months was an igloo, which the whole family constructed out of ice. Snow was used as plaster to fill in any holes between the blocks of ice. During the summer time, we had a tent like structure made out of bear and deer skin. Unfortunately all of us favoured the winter dwelling for one simple fact: The summer house stunk like a skunk. The choice of material was not a good one, but then, it was depression and all commodities were scarce.
The trip to school, either winter or summer time was made on skis and it was part to the exercise curriculum for all of us still eligible for the classes. A twenty kilometer trip back and forth was not a big deal and was building the strength and endurance nicely. This also came in handy for our after school activities. Some of us went to work in the coal mines, while others were herding rein deer or taking care of their younger siblings.
Each Saturday the Sauna was heated and all the family gathered into the cramped little room, heated up to eighty degrees. We were sitting all butt cheek to butt cheek in the nude on a wooden construct in the small dark room. Only the burning fire in the stove gave some lighting. As a luffa, a loosely tied bunch of birch tree branches with leaves on them was used. Out mother pummeled us with the concoction and me thinks she enjoyed it a little too much. Granted we children gave her grieve sometimes, so I will give her that.
Bathing for us then meant taking dips in the icy, below freezing waters. This, after we had first heated our body temperatures close to baking. Then we ran naked to the lake, where a large hole had been dug into the ice and plunged in.
All in all life was pretty ordinary and uneventful in my childhood, apart from the minor quirks.
Do I miss it? My childhood?
I would rather spend my next holiday on a labour camp!
Posted in Mundane Monday #84
Mundane, Photography, Poetry and Humour
“I think it’s better to be overly ambitious and fail than to be under ambitious
and succeed in a mundane way. I have been very fortunate. I failed upward in my life!”
Francis Ford Coppola
Roof Tops
Hop, skip, pop
Over the roof top
Doing a flip and flop
For nothing,
Will ever me stop
Rantings Of A Third Kind 