Head in the Clouds – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

September 9, 2013September 9, 2013freyathewriter 12 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below. Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - Kattermonran

Copyright – Kattermonran

– Head in the Clouds –

Sitting here in my eyrie, buffeted by wind and rain as it barrels in from the sea, I imagine myself in a tiny boat, storm-tossed and battered, far out in the oceans on the other side of the world.

I am alone, but not lonely.

At nights, I lie on the deck, bathed by moonlight, washed by showers of shooting stars. I lace my fingers behind my head, feeling the varnished boards still radiating the day’s heat.

As dawn breaks, clouds scud across the face of the sun. I remember with fondness the people of my past; family, friends and strangers who I have met on my journeys. I see them, living their lives in the sky above.

I pick up my pen, and begin to write.

Exoskeleton – Līgo Haibun Challenge

September 8, 2013freyathewriter 10 Comments

I have really enjoyed the past two weeks of writing a haibun – a piece of prose followed by a haiku poem. The Līgo Haibun Challenge is hosted by Penny, Ye Pirate and Nightlake – why not take a trip to their blogs to find out more and check the InLinkz linky to read other offerings?

This week’s two alternative prompts are the quotes below:

“Not only the thirsty seek the water,

the water as well seeks the thirsty.”

Rumi

“If your heart is a volcano,

how shall you expect flowers to bloom?”

Khalil Gilbran

I have chosen Khalil Gilbran as my inspiration this week. Let me know what you think!

*****

– Exoskeleton –

My heart is a desert. I have dragged and hauled my body through the past days and months, every cell and sinew focused on survival, on existence, on staying alive.

My first thoughts on waking turn to food; where to find it, is it safe, how will I cook it, will it keep the hunger pangs at bay?

Next; staying away from dark alleys, empty buildings, yawning mouths of doorways, shattered windows. Shadows threaten. Instincts rule where logic has abandoned us.

Finally; a roof for the night. Crowds hide the worst of all predators, sheltering under tents of sweat-stained blankets tide-marked with mud. I have learned to be solitary. I need nothing except my wits.

Muscles atrophy through lack of use. Our jaws have slackened as chatter recedes. Talking is superfluous. Walking is necessary.

My heart is deserted, shrunken by turbulence, assailed by violence, scarred with misuse. Have I lost you?

carapace keeps safe

but hides my starving heart from

love, for which it yearns

Small Friend – Līgo Haibun Challenge

September 2, 2013freyathewriter 22 Comments

This week, I have decided to dip another toe in the world of the haibun – a piece of prose followed by a haiku poem. The Līgo Haibun Challenge is hosted by Penny, Ye Pirate and Nightlake – why not take a trip to their blogs to find out more?

This week’s two alternative prompts are photos – of a goat and a group of penguins. I have chosen the penguins, for no particular reason at all! I hope you enjoy it. Please do go and check out the other entries by visiting any of the co-hosts’ blogs and finding the InLinkz linky thing! There are some very talented writers out there…

*****

– Small Friend –

“Does your Daddy like penguins?”

I look down at the little face raised upwards like a smiling flower. Her small, sticky hand grips mine tightly as we watch the trio waddling around the penguin pool. The innocent question stabs at my heart, so delicately protected by a tissue of time. The words slice through, finding their target.

I smile, determined not to crumple in front of this cheerful four year old, lost in the excitement of her day out at the zoo.

“Who doesn’t like them? Don’t you think they look like old men, waddling around?”

She extracts her starfish hand from mine, holding out both hands – her signal for a ‘carry n’ cuddle’.

“Please, I’m tired now.”

I crouch down noticing the mild ache in the small of my back, a remnant of too many days spent in unforgiving hospital chairs. Picking her up, I relish the warmth of her grasp around my neck. One arm releases as a thumb slips into her mouth, and her index finger hooks over her nose, rubbing gently, comfortingly.

“Don’t be sad,” she says. “You can ask him when you get home.”

little girl in spring

her life beginning, sees pain

inside, gives comfort