Dance like nobody’s watching …

photo courtesy of Magpie Tales Creative Writing

They danced

  One, two, three, one two, three

Swaying to the rhythm,

Singing with the radio,

Moving with the melody,

Holding each other tightly,

They danced as one,

Oblivious to all,

Even me,

Mesmerising each other,

They danced

On the dull patterned linoleum,

Seductively,

And in love.

photo courtesy of Magpie Tales and R.A.D Stainforth

Sad news this week about the death of Hollywood actress Lauren Bacall.  There are many quotes attributed to her and here is one of my favourites,

 'Imagination is the highest kite one can fly'. 

I found the Magpie picture a challenge this week but let my kite of imagination have a little blow in the breeze ....

It was a Sunday.  It was always a Sunday …

‘All aboard and ready to write?’ Captain Tess called.

‘All board and ready to write’, chorused the Magpies.

Several squeezed into the island ferry bound for The Sound of Yell. Many were still struggling with jet lag from the online get-you-there-quickly jet.

Everyone keen and enthusiastic for Magpie’s first ever ‘Words on Water’ tour.

The smug travel coordinator smiled about the commission she would make from this particular trip from the Mainland to the Sound of Yell.

Whose idea was it anyway?

It really didn’t matter,

Word was out

And the Maggie bookings came thick and fast.

The first ever-writing retreat on the water

Competition was intense

Heads down,

No distractions.

Maggie writers scribbled hard and fast

Words in wisdom, words in rhythm,

Words repeated line after line.

Creative juices did ebb and flow

Writers’ block had nowhere to go,

Sharpened pencils and a fountain pen

Words repeated again and again

Laptop writers typed the prose

Questionable poetry, god only knows.

The poets, the scribblers, the dribblers of rhyme

Tut-tutted and longed for time.

Engines slowed and

The foghorn blew

‘Writing stops’

Shouted one of the crew.

The “Words on the Water’ tour must end

To Magpie Tales, my tale I send!

A woeful rhyme, I must confess

But I’ve had some fun, so thank you, Tess.

A Game of Patience, 1937, Meredith Frampton 

 When I stopped by to update my blog today I found myself in a dilemma, you know the sort, 'What will I blog about today?'

I considered the options;

• Something from Magpie Tales, the weekly writing prompt from Tess at Willow Manor or 
• Something from 'Our Allotment'. The observant among you will note that it is fast becoming a joint project.  Ownership is not in contention here, we do share the fruits of our labour.

I did wonder if there was a connection between the options and thought long and hard about who or what might connect them and then it came to me in a word - PATIENCE!  Bear with me and all will be revealed.

In life, some things take a little time and patience to unfold, for example, good writing for a play, prose or poetry for a Magpie Tale.  Little seedlings need help, nurturing, sunshine and a little patience too before something wonderful transpires.  I believe Mother Nature does not like to be rushed.  She finds her own pace and rhythm.  It would be unfair of me to expect her to perform instant magic.  She needs time and patience to be creative and bountiful in her giving.   As she weaves her way through our little allotment, slowly unfolding her little offerings in the form of potatoes and courgettes (this week!) we welcome her gifts.  

Sometimes the answer comes in the waiting, the patience, the letting it be ... Incidentally, the potatoes tasted so much better for the wait!

Patient potatoes - photo by me!

The long walk

 Rene Magritte - Not to be Reproduced

Another Magpie Tale 
 .... just managed to publish this one before Tess uploads a new picture on Sunday. Happy blogging one and all. May your week be filled with words and inspiration

‘Follow me’ he said,

So, I did

And walked nervously into the valley of the unknown.

Smart suit, smart shoes, serious face refreshed

With a hint of aftershave,

Not too intense

Enough to say I had made an effort.

Important to create the right impression,

And what exactly is the right impression?

Right for them?

Right for me?

Hours spent on the application form

Dotting the ‘I’s and crossing the ‘t’s.

Would I fit neatly into their boxes?

Boxes of ‘essential’ and preferable’

I hate ticking boxes

It curbs the creative soul.

Hard times, needs must, cash flow flowing … fast.

Second-hand suit, new shirt, squeaky shoes.

Anxious, nervous and sweaty palms,

Remember to breathe …1-2-3.

Interviews – not my favourite pursuit

Wish me luck!

If you go down to the sea today ...

La Jument, off the coast of Brittany, photograph by Jean Guichard 

Picture courtesy of Magpie Tales 

Angry?  Angry, you ask?  Too right I’m angry!

You’ve over-fished my seas

Dumped toxic waste on my bed

Killed off my fish

Damaged my beautiful birds.

You’ve pirated my waters

And angered my soul.

What gives you the right?

What makes you destroy so viciously?

What pleasure do you derive from this?

You’ve insulted my presence

You’ve upset my harmony

You’ve provoked me to react.

Where now are the healing waters?

Where lies the curative balm?

Where are the comforting ways

To soothe and lull me to sleep again?