"And the World is Like an Apple Whirling Silently in Space"

Tess's prompt for Magpie Tales 109 is this image by Robert and Shana Parke Harrison of someone who should know better . . .

A keen archeologist called Pound

dug down to some cogs in the ground.

He thought, "Folk should see 'em

In the British Museum."

So he heaved on his spanner

in prompt Magpie manner

till his face turned quite puce.

At last one cog came loose -

"Oh Drat! I've stopped Earth going round."


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Friday Flash Fiction 16th.March

G-Man's picture sparked no spark this week, so I was inspired by this one, shot through an East Window.

I know a young student called Boon

who'll be in the slammer till June

for baring his ass

in the Astronomy class

'cos he didn't understand "a full moon"

I am much indebted to another blogger of full moons for the third and fourth lines, who, reading this, will know who I mean.

(Makes 55 words including the anonymous attribution, hehe!)

The Ides of March

G-Man made a brave attempt at a Friday Flash Fiction 55 synopsis, but the truth is far different . . .

Julius, Mayor of Casterbridge is in the Forum. A guy called Mark Anthony shouts he wants to borrow ears. “I’ll sell you my wife Elizabeth’s ears for V denarii” says Julius.  The crowd doesn’t like this. They stab him XXIII times.  “Oh, you brutes” he cries, expiring.  Anthony marries Elizabeth, played in the film by Cleopatra Taylor.

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Mapie#107

Horrid Haiku

SHE
Meet my gaze full square!
Timidity won't get you
anywhere. My eyes . .

HE
 . . hold rapture, dearest,
true. But . . ain't that a cockroach
crawling from your hair?

Ladies! Have you noticed the date!

Love Lorn and Alone . . .

It's Leap Year’s Day, the 29th of Feb,

the once-in-four-years day when on-the-shelf

ladies chase hunky swains with cries of "Wed

me, you gorgeous lunk!"  

                                       I’ve missed the bus!

Each Leap Year Day I dress in my best suit,

use tons of brylcreem and stroll up and down

our High Street. See with what nonchalance I swing,

my walking cane and twirrrrllll my waxed moustache,

giving each passing lass a beaming smile,

a knowing wink and handing them my flyers

saying "Surely you know what day it is?

How can you let a prize like me pass by?"

In all the years I’ve had but one response.

Mostly they swerve aside and hurry on –

save once! A redhead, beauty unsurpassed,

stopped me, and with her kind hand on my arm

said "Are you alright, Grandad? Where do you live?

You’ve come out wearing carpet slippers, dearie!"

Posted in response to this week's d'verse invitation - Open Link Night Week 33

Magpie Tales#106

25 years ago last week, we said Farewell to a leading protagonist of "pop" art. Now Tess  at Willow Manor gives us this memento picture.

It's Mr. Warhol himself, I do declare.  Is he looking for cans of his favourite model?

In Wal-Mart an artist called Andy
thought "Two pairs of hands would be handy.
Seems that I'm doomed to fail
in my search for oxtail,
'cos each one of these is tomayto!" (*)

(*) I have spelled it as it is pronounced in the USA.  Otherwise it wouldn't rhyme properly.  Someone, somewhere will understand . . . 

Friday Flash Fiction 24th. February

Friday keeps on coming around, and with it comes G-Man's picture  - and a stingy allowance of 55 words.   (The Mad Axeman, far right, plays no part in the story)

Philosophy Rules, O.K?

"He's not lookin' good, guys."

"I'm thinkin' the same myself."

"Philosophically speakin', what's wrong with the old gasbag?"

Socrates, gasping his last.  "What's wrong, you gormless half-wits is, I asked for dandelion and burdock. Brown. Fizzy. You gave me hemlock.  Plaudite amici! Comedia finita est."

"In Greek, you old fart! You think we're educated or sumfink?"

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Magpie Tales#105

Tess at Willow Manor gives us an environmentally friendly picture this week -

Speaks

"Is that Tour de France Race Control?
Please help. I am in a real hole.
I got lost on Stage Three.
When I stopped for a pee
they forgot about  me.
Now I'm stranded, I fear . . .
What?!!  Hang around here
until this time next year?
When the riders whizz past
I can catch up real fast
and back into Paris I'll roll?

Thinks
"This guy must be out of his tiny little mind."

More unlikely biking stories can be found here.

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Friday Flash Fiction 17th.February

Friday comes around again, and with it comes G-Man, demanding 55 words . . or else!

"Oooh, Agrippina, you don't want to eat too many of those!"
"Who said that?"
"That's a Magic Mushroom. It'll wreck your head, duckie."
"Am I hearing voices or what?"
"Next thing you know you'll be hallucinating lions."
"Just shut up! They're yummy. I've eaten truckloads."
"I've eaten so many I'm hallucinating yummy Roman ladies in pink."

Mary at Poetry Jam  asks for poems dealing with seasonings. 

Fetish

Give me a girl with garlic on her breath!

Fragrance of warmer air and jugs of wine.

Oh, such a one I'd love half way to death!

Not all the way, I could not spare the time

from thinking of her mediterranean hair,

falling about her shoulders and the wood-

en chopping board, the cloves of garlic there

blithe to be squidged to make her lips taste good.

Sometimes she'll munch mouthfuls of allium raw –

pungent disulphides plating pearly teeth,

promising scented lungfuls and much more.

Ah now I live and breathe, while underneath

the cooker-hood the pasta rolls and boils

as drops of garlic essence she drips in.

Not too much in case the penne spoils

nor so little her perfumed burps seem thin.

As aniseed is to the hunting hound

so hints of garlic urge my manly pride

and when she smoothes the garlic butter round

her person - she can run but she can’t hide.

Keep, if you please, your "Blue Grass" and "Chanel,"

witches' brews that all real ladies scorn.

Let me inhale the aroma I love well -

garlic sweet as sunlight each new dawn.

(Posted previously on August 26th. 2011)