Adventures can be curious things

Whether following old maps

Or destroying cursed rings

What makes these quests strange

In these days here and now

And this is the truth, I do avow

They are not done in caves deep

Or by on sheer cliff climbing

But in the comfort of home

At a table meant for dining


A Timely Reminder (or the Power of Advertising)

A timely reminder

To go out and buy

Stuff you might need

But you don’t know just why

It said so on the commercial

It said sale ends soon

And if you just get one

You’ll be over the moon

It’s a timely reminder

That you must go and get

A twizzled plastic thingamajig

If you don’t have one yet



Sam was sitting on John’s front porch when the latter arrived home from school.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were sick. That’s what the teacher thought anyway.”

“No, I’m fine. I took the day off to do some real learning,” Sam replied.

“Real learning?”

“Yup, I went into the city to learn some culture,” Sam said proudly.

“Isn’t that what school’s about?” John asked.

“No, real culture. Check these out. I got them downtown,” Sam said unrolling a poster of some dogs playing pool.

“Umm, nice, I think,” John said hesitantly.

“If you like that you will love this download the shop keeper recommended,” Sam said pulling an ear-bud out and offering it to his friend.

John held it next to his ear, but the dissonant tones so grated on him that he handed it back immediately.

“Sam, next time you want to get a little culture, I recommend that you just buy a tub of yoghurt.”




We have our traditions

We have our songs

Events and occasions

That help us feel we belong

A few things shared

On which we agree

That set us apart

And make us a “we”

Some say the world

Must by nature change

But hopefully at least a little

Of our shared identity

Will remain


When ME is the Collective

Apocalypse, City, Ruins, Buildings

We say we’ve moved on

Beyond fairy tale and superstition.

Led by the empirical, our own minds,

And accompanied by selfish ambition

We have abandoned the divine,

Leading to society’s demolition.

When “I” become more than the rest of the whole

If followed by all – this has a terrible toll.

Society and culture are meant to be a collective

If we live just for ourselves – that must surely be defective.



Lost eagles of Roman army « IMPERIUM ROMANUM

Empires rise and fall

Some leave great legacies

Others not much at all

The Romans brought straight roads

An alphabet and laws

While the British exported cricket

And oblong-shaped balls

The English tongue too they spread round

Though dialects many – now abound

Lift or elevator?

Barbeque or braai?

By a common tongue divided

I don’t know why

Empires now are so passe

Maybe we should just keep it that way


Empire in 70 words

Terror Night

woman in black spaghetti strap top wearing eyeglasses
Jakob Owens at Unsplash

“Who are you and where did you get this number?” Nina challenged.

“They call me the Reaper,” the deep-breathing man said malevalently.

“Well you don’t scare me,” Nina said without the slightest hint of alarm.

“And why is that? Surely you know my reputation, and whether you believe it or not, I am right outside your door.”

“So?” Nina queried.

“So – you are my next plaything,” the Reaper snarled.

“I don’t think so,” Nina countered bravely just before the phoneline went dead.

Suddenly the backdoor of her house burst open and a black-clad man in a ski-mask stood before her brandishing a machete.

“So are still confident?” the Reaper sneared.

“Yes, most definitely,” Nina said with out the least hint of distress.

Confused, the Reaper ran his thumb along the blade and said, “We’ll just have to see about that.”

“Yes we will,” Nina said defiantly.

“What?” the assailant said with dismay.

“Yes, we will see,” she retorted. “Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what?” the Reaper asked even more confused.

“Didn’t they tell you that I signed a three film contract?”


The Finding

Laboratory, Figure, Molecular Biology
Image by Weipeng_Lin from Pixabay 


“Yes Senator, I think we have found a smoking gun,” the chief researcher said.

“Smoking gun?”

“Yes, at first we thought that it was just some fluck of nature, mere random happenings, but now it is clear that there is a design to it.”

“A design?  Surely it’s a matter of person choice – an act of free will?”

“No, sorry Senator.  It is irrefutable now.  What we thought was a life-style choice has been predetermined by forces far more malevolent than anyone could possibly have imagined.”

“Do you mean – ah – do you mean . . . ?”

“Yes Senator, nine out of ten dentists do prefer Brand X.  It’s all down to the Illumi . . . I mean advertisers you see,” the scientist said, casting an anxious look at an icy-eyed ‘lab assistant’ than was looming in a corner.




FOWC with Fandango — Design



Party, Carnival, Happy, Beautiful Woman

Image by Ellen26 from Pixabay 

I’ve never been on a Carnival cruise

With luxury cabins and

Captain’s-tables to schmooze

For when I first – went to sea

It was Marines’ compartments

And haze grey for me

Nor have I ever seen Carnival grand

With bright feathered costumes

And steel-drum bands

It’s travelling fairs and village fetes

That have till now

Been my fate

So what does “carnival’ mean to me?

I’m afraid it’s just a word

In the diction-ary




Sunday Writing Prompt – 16th August – Carnival

Odd One Out

Forum Novelties womensCostume Costume - - Default: ...

Image: Amazon


Can you remember – back in the 80s

When cell phones looked like a brick?

Strawberry lip gloss – was all the craze –

Unless you went for bright cherry lipstick.

Shoulder-pads – on femme power-suits were worn

And bright coloured tubes – to keep your legs warm

Then to top off – the whole enchilada

Big hair was the thing of the day

But I’ll bet ya’ your very last sand dollar 

That Stallone looked odd – dressed in that way





Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #32:

“The prompt words and phrases are lipstickbrick, the whole enchiladasand dollarpeachynectar, and coral. . . .  Since the usual game of One of These Things Is Not Like the Others has only four choices, that’s how many of the paint chips I’m challenging you to use in your poem.”