James Blunt , Stand Up to Cancer.

James has said it all so let’s kick Cancers Arse!

#TANKATUESDAY Weekly #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 248, #PHOTOPROMPT

WELCOME NoTO COLLEEN CHESEBRO’S TANKA TUESDAY!

Sangeetha, from MindFills selected the photo for this week. It’s her personal photo, so please add the image credit. Remember, we can see what’s in the image, so write your poem using the image as an inspiration.

Don’t just describe what you see in the image. Think about metaphor and allegory. Don’t forget to use imagery in your poem. Just remember to check what form you’re using. Some of the Japanese forms frown upon the use of metaphors. 

Tilini – The Himalaya, 2021 photo credit – sangeetha

I am the wild flow
you are the stay and anchor
we are stuff of life.

*******

This is part of Colleen’s Tuesday Tanka

News about The Art Of Spirit Capture.

The Art Of Spirit Capture. ©Geoff Le Pard.

Good morning one and all. Today I am delighted to be hosting my good friend Geoff Le Pard.

© Geoff Le Pard.

He arrived on my doorstep looking like this. Well I had to ask him in I really could not leave him outside, what would the neighbours think.

It wasn’t so much what he was wearing, though, that threw me but more the aeriel sticking out of his head. Anyway he’d bought cake so I did what I always do in these circumstances and put the kettle on.

So Geoff, The Art Of Spirit Capture , that’s an intriguing name for a book. Knowing you the content will be as unusual as the title.

Here lets get that hat and aeriel off , it will save a lot of damage on the wood work.

Can you tell us, Geoff how did you find your Characters and the Main Protagonist for the book?

In all my fiction, character is as important as plot, at least to begin with. Eventually plot begins to take precedence so I’m sure the story hangs together and is credible. But finding my main characters is crucial and I often default to people I’ve known down the years or come across in fiction to start my hunt. 

The Art started life as a 500 word piece with one main character, the inventor of the spirit capture, Ben Wood. Logic would dictate the story followed him but I soon decided that wasn’t how I wanted to go. 

In the 500 word piece you had to be in the know to take advantage of Ben’s discovery and invention. It was something that was being kept secret, to stop Ben being overwhelmed. A sort of mutual understanding amongst the locals to keep quiet. 

It would better, I reasoned to begin the book with someone who knew nothing about the captures and their effect and have him or her discover what they were. And as is often best in fiction, put him or her in some jeopardy once the secret was revealed.

More tea vicar..I mean Geoff, it’s your dress, it is confusing me. Where did inspiration come from?

There is a Bill Forsyth film that I love. Local Hero came out in the 80s and made me fall in love with the Highlands of Scotland. It also has one of the great instrumental pieces in film, from Dire Straits, one of my favourite bands.

The lead character in Local Hero is a stressed oil executive from Texas who is dispatched to Scotland to persuade the locals of the benefits of allowing the oil industry in. He is bemused, out of his depth and beautifully played for a patsy as the locals, who want the money the oil will bring. They exploit his conviction that they will be against the exploitation. I wanted to capture a little of that confusion, that reversal of roles.

In the film there are several ‘characters’ amongst the locals and I knew I wanted to populate my community with a similar range. But also to give them differing and overlapping motivations. 

Thus Jason Hales, recently single, redundant, with his brother in a coma and now homeless became my hero. His is a journey for sure.

Well all I can say is I am looking forward to reading this!

The Art Of Spirit Capture, here is the Blurb

Jason Hales is at his lowest ebb: his brother is in a coma; his long-term partner has left him; he’s been sacked; and Christmas is round the corner to remind him how bad his life has become. 

After receiving an unexpected call telling him he’s a beneficiary of his Great Aunt Heather’s estate, he visits the town he vaguely recalls from his childhood, where his great aunt lived. Wanting to find out more, he’s soon sucked into local politics revolving around his great uncle’s extraordinary glass ornaments, his ‘Captures’, and their future. 

While trying to piece his life back together, he’ll have to confront a number of questions: What actually are these Captures and what is the mystery of the old wartime huts where his uncle fashioned them? Why is his surly neighbour so antagonistic? Can he trust anyone, especially the local doctor Owen Marsh and Charlotte Taylor, once a childhood adversary, but now the lawyer dealing with the estate? His worries pile up, with his ex in trouble, his flat rendered uninhabitable and his brother’s condition worsening. Will Christmas bring him any joy?

Set in the Sussex countryside, this is a modern novel with mystery, romance and magic at its core, as well as a smattering of hope, redemption and good cooking.

Now if you don’t know of Geoff Le Pard and his blog TanGental where have you been? Here is his information and a list of all his fabulous books and where to buy them.

Geoff Le Pard started writing to entertain in 2006. He hasn’t left his keyboard since. When he’s not churning out novels he writes some maudlin self-indulgent poetry, short fiction and blogs at geofflepard.com. He walks the dog for mutual inspiration and most of his best ideas come out of these strolls. He also cooks with passion if not precision.

*********

My Father and Other Liars is a thriller set in the near future and takes its heroes, Maurice and Lori-Ann on a helter-skelter chase across continents.

Smashwords

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle is a coming of age story. Set in 1976 the hero Harry Spittle is home from university for the holidays. He has three goals: to keep away from his family, earn money and hopefully have sex. Inevitably his summer turns out to be very different to that anticipated.

Smashwords

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

In this, the second book in the Harry Spittle Sagas, it’s 1981 and Harry is training to be a solicitor. His private life is a bit of a mess and he’s far from convinced the law is for him. Then an old acquaintance from his hotel days appears demanding Harry write his will. When he dies somewhat mysteriously a few days later and leaves Harry in charge of sorting out his affairs, Harry soon realises this will be no ordinary piece of work. After all, his now deceased client inherited a criminal empire and several people are very interested in what is to become of it.

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

The third instalment of the Harry Spittle Sagas moves on the 1987. Harry is now a senior lawyer with a well-regarded City of London firm, aspiring to a partnership. However, one evening Harry finds the head of the Private Client department dead over his desk, in a very compromising situation. The senior partner offers to sort things out, to avoid Harry embarrassment but soon matters take a sinister turn and Harry is fighting for his career, his freedom and eventually his life as he wrestles with dilemma on dilemma. Will Harry save the day? Will he save himself? 

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Life in a Grain of Sand is a 30 story anthology covering many genres: fantasy, romance, humour, thriller, espionage, conspiracy theories, MG and indeed something for everyone. All the stories were written during Nano 2015 

Smashwords

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Salisbury Square is a dark thriller set in present day London where a homeless woman and a Polish man, escaping the police at home, form an unlikely alliance to save themselves. 

This is available here 

Smashwords

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Buster & Moo is about about two couples and the dog whose ownership passes from one to the other. When the couples meet, via the dog, the previously hidden cracks in their relationships surface and events begin to spiral out of control. If the relationships are to survive there is room for only one hero but who will that be?

Smashwords

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Life in a Flash is a set of super short fiction, flash and micro fiction that should keep you engaged and amused for ages 

Amazon.co.uk 

Amazon.com 

Smashwords

Apprenticed To My Mother describes the period after my father died when I thought I was to play the role of dutiful son, while Mum wanted a new, improved version of her husband – a sort of Desmond 2.0. We both had a lot to learn in those five years, with a lot of laughs and a few tears as we went.

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Life in a Conversation is an anthology of short and super short fiction that explores connections through humour, speech and everything besides. If you enjoy the funny, the weird and the heart-rending then you’ll be sure to find something here.

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

When Martin suggests to Pete and Chris that they spend a week walking, the Cotswolds Way, ostensibly it’s to help Chris overcome the loss of his wife, Diane. Each of them, though, has their own agenda and, as the week progresses, cracks in their friendship widen with unseen and horrifying consequences.

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

Famous poets reimagined, sonnets of all kinds, this poerty selection has something for all tastes, from the funny, to the poignant to the thought-provoking and always written with love and passion.

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com.

So you are off now, are you Geoff it was so much fun to have visit and tell us all about the new book.

You can buy it here

Hang on Geoff you’ve left a strange looking jar in my kitchen. GEOFF! GEOFF!!

Throwback Thursday #8 – Collections.

This week it is Lorraine at LSSATTITUDEOFGRATITUDE . To choose the prompt for Throwback Thursday Memory Blog hop. Next week Maggie at FROMTHECAVEWALLS will return, as they

Participation is easy. Write your own post sharing your memories and leave a pingback to this post in the comments. You can use the photo above in your post and tag it with #TBTMemory or #IRememberWhen to make it easier for others to find. If you do not wish to write your own post, feel free to tell your story in the comments below!

This week’s prompt is: Collections – Take this prompt wherever it leads you.

I have never been much of a collector, as a child I did collect dolls from different countries but to be honest that was more my sisters and mum’s idea than mine I just went along for the ride . Really from when I could read words , poems, lyrics and music have been my collections. So here are three of my favourite collection pieces.

The Collecter of bones

Image Fond Here

For  the longest  time  the child  had  collected bones  and dead insects.

Body parts she  cut  from animals  so  she could learn  how  they  worked .

Not  dead  animals  the  organs  had  to  be alive  and pumping

Warm and  growing,  breathing , flowing.

It  had  started  with  a bone  collection  but  she had  needed  to have  more knowledge.

She  collected  spiders  and  insects  from the hedge .

Soon  cats and  dogs went  missing , they’d disappear?

Her  mother shut  her eyes  to what  she guessed, keeping  silent her fear.

The  child  spent  less and  less  time  at home

She  preferred to be in the woods foraging  on her  own.

Then  the odd  baby   disappeared  from  it’s cot

The  need  for  learning   was  all that mattered  to  the swot.

One  day  she was gone,  she  did not  return home

The  child  had  decided  it  was time  to roam.

With  necklaces of  eyes  and  ears  and trinkets  made of  bone

She traveled  the word  her  skills to  practice  and hone.

bone collector.

Image Found Here

 Lock  your  windows , close  your  doors

She  is out  there  crossing  fields  and  moors

She is  bigger now  and  stronger

Only  harvests  what  she needs, keeps her donors  alive  longer

What  made  the child want  to  collect this  way

The  thirst  for  knowledge  one  might  say.

Or  maybe  pure  evil invaded  her  whole

She  was  such a  beauty  in  body  but not in soul.

Beware  when out on  day or  night

Beware  those eyes  so angelic  a sight .

Run from the clink of bone and tooth

She  will not  spare  you  and  that is  the truth!

She is only out to collect

So lock your doors and your loved ones protect.

****

The Hairdresser the soul collector

Image from Pixabay

At the hairdressers, shampoo rinsing in the sink behind you, water drip drip drip.

Towel drying your tresses then combing out the knots slick slick

Time now for the magic scissor blades eating at your hair, clip clip clip.

Talk of last nights conquests, who was with who and did what dig dig dig dig.

Would you like a coffee, tea or water, coffee black no sugar, please sip sip sip .

Get the feathering done now, scissor blades flash hair falls snip snip snip

Oh! that’s my favourite song, oh yeah! it is just so good to dance to click click click.

Are you holidaying this year?on safari, me? not this year I can’t afford the trip trip trip.

The junior brings the coffee in her pretty flip flops painted toes go flip flip flip.

Spraying lacquer, styling mousse , firming gel and hot brush, hair goes flick flick flick.

A tease here, a lift there.Wow that looks good don’t ya think ! slick slick slick

Time to pay into your purse you dip zip zip zip

And a tip yes, another dip dip dip !

cutting your souls

Men and women come in for styles outrageous as they dare dare dare.

Couples too come for his and hers styles and I do the pair pair pair.

They are always pleased and say my rates are fair fair fair.

They come to me once a month so I can cut their hair hair hair.

I make them beautiful so their friends will stare stare stare.

They say my styles are beautiful, amazing yes I have a flair flair flair.

They have no idea I am collecting their souls, they don’t care care care.

They get the unique styles they want, I get souls which I will not share share share.

As I sweep up the cuttings from the floor, well they are spare spare spare.

I am never late, my job is my life and I live up the stairs stair stair stair.

This is my life cutting their souls for me it is like breathing air air air air.

*****

The Dream collector.

Image here

Every night while we sleep

Across the lake her nets she casts deep

It is not fish but our dreams

Our hopes, needs and all our schemes.

Secret birds of the night

Spy her whilst on their endless flight.

Why does she spend every night

Endeavoring our dreams to hold tight.

She is waif like she is fair ,

She is heart broken and full of dispair .

Why does she always cast her net at night

Shying away from us and avoiding the light.

Once like us she walked in the light

Before she was condemned to endless night.

She had a lover who she worshiped and adored

Yet he betrayed and left her though she wept and implored.

Anger and jealousy beset her she could not live

She could not breath or think without her lover

In rage she sort him out and she did discover

He was wrapped in the legs and arms of another.

She cut them deep, she bled them dry

And as she did all she could do was cry.

She screamed at the Sun to no longer shine on her

She begged the Moon to keep her and never let this hurt reoccur

The God of love and goodness took pity on her

Set her to fishing for dreams in hope her soul to repair.

So this endless task is hers,  never to be free

Of all the hopes and dreams that escape from you and me

Secret birds of the night

Spy her whilst on their endless flight.

Why does she spend every night

Endeavoring our dreams to hold tight.

********

Thank you for reading.

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS October 16, 2021

Our Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “if.” Start your post with the word “If.” Enjoy!

If only I’d made more time
To travel to your door
If only we been closer
Or I’d known what I know now before.
If only I had told you how much I really care
If only I could touch you, If only you were here.

© willowdot21 Mary and I , Mary seated.

My  dear  and  beautiful second eldest  sister died  in October 2015 . She was a nursing  sister  all her  working  life and  she  touched  so many  lives. She died a horrible  and  painful  death due  to a  drug  resistant  bug. 

Last moments

The  machines  murmured and  slowly  stopped their pings

As her  soul, finally  at  peace, was  released  and  found it’s  wings.

After months  of  pain  and  strain she  was  free  to  run and laugh  again.

I hope  you  are  back  with  your  true love and  dancing  to  a sweet refrain.

God  Bless  you  sister  dear

I shall miss  you  so,  yet still feel  you near.

Your departure on my heart has left a scar

You are  still next  to me not  far.

This is part of LindaGHill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday.

#TankaTuesday Weekly #Poetry Challenge No. 247, #SynonymsOnly

WELCOME TO TANKA TUESDAY!

Are you ready to choose some syllables to use in your poetry? Willow Willers  (pist’ that’s me 😃) from last month’s challenge chose the two words for this month:

Twilight & Hue.

© willowdot21

a dusky silver
somewhere between night and day
Shades of evening sway.

part of Colleen’s Tuesday Tanka.

Throwback Thursday #7 School Daze.

Throwback Thursday Memory Blog

Caution this is not a fun blog post but it’s a true one from my heart.

Maggie is our hostess this week as she alternates with Lauren for the Throwback Thursday/ I Remember When series. 
This week’s prompt is: School Memories – Take this prompt wherever it leads you. Here are some suggestions to consider.

Who was your favorite teacher? What about your worst? Were you a member of any clubs? Did you attend homecoming or the prom? What was your favorite subject? Were you the perfect student or a troublemaker? What clothes were in style when you were in school? How did you get to school? Bus, walk, drive? Any extracurricular activities? What did you do for lunch? Did you attend football games or other sports? Did you attend school when corporal punishment was applied? Have a school photo you wish to share?

I wrote this poem on abuse at school by piers and teachers, in 2012. It  is personal and I am not afraid to say so. My school days were among the worst days of my life. I was lucky in a way as there was no internet in my day, once I was home I was more or less safe.

It can be even worse these days as there is now cyber bullying so the poor victim cannot get away from it unless they cut themselves off completely from the modern appliances. In fact some people are Tolled after their death and so it is their family that carry on receiving the bullying.

It is abuse it should be stopped but the schools do not seem to be able to stop it !

It’s nothing less than abuse.

Rounded shoulders head hung down

Rounded shoulders head hung down why do they all make fun of me I am not a clown. Sitting in the row spiteful girls stick their pens in my legs. Teacher at the front she must never know, she wouldn’t help she treats me like dregs.

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

Following me nearly home, calling me mean names,in the playground I always stand alone they don’t pick me for their games. Opening my desk finding it’s been trashed , my text book been drawn in and my favourite doll has been  smashed.

Mum tried her hardest but being the youngest of six my things did not get replaced they just got fixed. My plimsolls were the wrong colour they were black instead of white , I was hauled up on the stage, lectured in front of the school then had to stay on late that night. I just could not make it I could not win with staff and girls against me all I could do was just give in.

I met my boyfriend, and his friends did not like me because I spoke differently, I was from the posh school.  They though I was rich, I was not I was just like them it would of made no  difference if I’d let them know. When we  were out or at a party they were pleasant to my face but if my guy was not there and behind my back the things they said were just a disgrace. They joined the line of teachers and my piers it makes me wonder now how I stood it for all those years.

I am not saying I no friends, no that would not be true. I did have friends and they were good   but they were the very few. I always felt so ugly, too fat and too short and if anyone was nice to me I could not believe it. What do they want was my first thought.

Things got better when I started work I seemed to come out of my shell like a little butterfly I changed and put aside my days of living hell. They tell you, you don’t  realize that school days are the best days of your life , thank God I never listened or I would of ended mine with a knife.

Thank God I grew away from all the pain  but sometimes I see a face  hear a voice or a name and it all floods back again. I am older now and have all that I could ask for, family and friends but sometimes my calm deserts me and confidence takes flight,  fear and dark descends and I feel lost in the night. I ask the question now why children’s jibes and actions  can be so mean and cruel. The worse days of my life were my years at school. I cry each time I read or hear on the news how children can hurt each other IT NOTHING LESS THAN ABUSE.

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS October 1, 2021

Badge by Shelley Krupa.

Well what do know LindaGHill is not here this week, instead Dan (from No Facilities) is here in her stead. So in preparation for visiting with David, Cheryl, and Dan at the bar tomorrow, Dan will providing us with our Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. Okay Dan what’s the prompt please?
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “inspire/aspire/expire.” Use them in any form you like. Use one, use two or use them all if you want. If you use two, you get bonus points! If you use all three, Cheryl will put your next drink on David’s tab. Enjoy!

Inspired by Dan , who knows I aspire to be a poet I hope to claim my drink before the offer will expire!

pixabay

Aspire
To fly higher
To be the one
Who others inspire
To reach for the sun
To work and have fun
To live life to the full
Be the best in the pool
To be the goal and then expire

Part of LindaGHill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday.

#TANKATUESDAY Weekly #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 245, #THEMEPROMPT

WELCOME TO TANKA TUESDAY!

Happy 5th Birthday Tanka Tuesday! 💜🌟

It’s the fourth week of the month! Are you ready for a theme prompt? Eugi (Franci Hoffman) from last month’s challenge picked the theme: This month’s theme is:

The Harvest Moon

© willowdot21

Caught
Like a
Startled cat
Quite bedazzled
Trapped in silver moonbeams
I am bewitched and bewildered
So entranced by the beauty I near swoon.
A huge silver sphere shedding magic, harvest moon.
These Autumn nights are full of witches flights
Ghosts and ghouls play us for such fools.
Please shine harvest moon on us
In your magic
Powers we
Surely
Trust.

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕.

I wanted to do a Diatelle, but the rhyming rules would not let express myself as I had hoped, so I wrote a free verse Diatelle. I hope that is okay. A true Diatelle runs with syllables of 1/2/3/4/6/8/10/12/10/8/6/4/3/2/1 and a rhyming scheme of abbcbccaccbcbba.

THIS IS PART OF COLLEEN’S TANKA TUESDAY CHALLENGE.

Memories.

image from here.

Memories.

They  wriggle  and they giggle  and they run and hide

You know them all, you’re the one who put them inside.

They hint  and they suggest,  they rub around the edge

You have to keep them active for absence of them turns  your mind to veg.

They are beautiful  and ugly , huge and very small

They are  full of importance and yet  they have none at all.

Warm and soft  and fluffy , scary  , evil  and terrifying

Having  a birthday party or turbulence while flying.

Having  your  first baby  or your wedding day

But  when you have to remember them, they’ve often flown away 

Dancing with your first love  kissing him goodnight

Arguing  with your family  .. boy that was an almighty  fight !

Fighting off depression, facing down your fears

Memories dancing  and prancing, escaping  through your ears.

Your first teddy’s name was Jingles your first job was blast

If  you let  your  memories run  it’s like  a film with a giant cast!

You  need to keep it active  you cannot let it rest

For if you do not use it deserts you and that is not for the best.

Watch it  very  carefully be aware of the tricks it plays on  you

You must keep it buzzing or it will wonder off into the blue.

They  wriggle  and they giggle  and they run and hide

But  you know that they are in there, you’re the one who put them inside.

They hint  and they suggest,  they rub around the edge

You have to keep them active for absence of them turns  your mind to veg.

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