Of An Ambiance Close

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Where is the expanse – vast

Of both sky and sea

Upon which at noon

My gaze was cast?

Now both night and tide

Are closing in

An aura pressing

Upon my very skin

Shadows grow deep

Waves thunderously crashing

Soon all shall be enclosed

In night’s grip

An ambiance – dark and lasting




FOWC with Fandango — Ambience





Don’t Be A Heel

These are the devices

With which we trod

Be they Jimmy Choo bound

Or shoddily shod


Two soles we enclose

Two heels we surround

Our ten lower digits

Eat up the ground


We owe so much

To our humble peds

But most of the glory

We show to our heads


So stand up for your feet

Show them you care

Remember, stand you couldn’t

If they weren’t there




Inspiration Call: Feet Remove your shoes. Write a poem that celebrates your feet.






Bat Girl

woman sitting on parking area pavement

Photo by Iwona Baran on Unsplash

Some called her a vigilante, others a local hero.  Whichever viewpoint you took, one thing was certain, petty crime had fallen in Braddockville.  She wore no Lycra-based catsuit or cape, but a plain set of blue denims and a blue patterned bandanna tied cowboy style about her face to shield her identity.

No one knew who this foiler of misdeeds was, but she was popularly referred to in both casual conversation and the local papers as Bat Girl.  Bat Girl?  Yes, the term was first used to describe her by the drug dealer that first experienced her Louisville Slugger.


(99 Words)

April 9: Flash Fiction Challenge – Shield Your Face




black suv in between purple flower fields

Photo by Viktor Lundberg on Pexels.com

Seven-year-old, Sally and her four-year-old brother, Tim were bundled into the car.  Dad had to try the ignition a few times before the vehicle eventually coughed into life.  Soon the Thompson family were motoring down an almost traffic-free road and Mom kept making comments about how beautiful the scenery was.

All the while, Tim stared at the passing images with a mix of wonder and trepidation.  Finally he leaned over to his sister and asked, “Where are we?”

“Don’t you remember?” she asked.  “It’s called ‘outside.'”

I guess two and a half years of lock-down does have it’s drawbacks.



Photo Challenge #310




For some they’re treasure –

For others trash –

For the seller  –

They’re ready cash


Spread on a table, or upon a sheet

You would amazed by the bargains sweet.

You never know what you might find –

Like a first edition – by the author signed.


So whether yard sale,  car boot,  or bazaar

Have loose change ready –

Be it Dollars, Euros,

Pounds or Dinar




Friday March 6, 2020 Writing Prompt Inspiration Call: Yard Sale Finds



Repository of Possibility



“What is this place?” Brittany asked.  “It seemed so small outside, but it goes on forever.”

“It only goes as far as you want it to,” Grandma Hilda responded.  “It is the Library of the Imagination.”

“What’s in it?” Brittany asked excitedly.

“Everything and nothing,” her grandmother replied.

“What do you mean nothing?  There are millions of books here,” Brittany observed.

“Not quite so, Sweetheart,” Hilda replied.  “I used to bring your father here when he was young.  Back then it was full of Pirates and Dragons.  But then he turned his mind to science and the shelves became fewer and fewer.”

“But I see the science books like the one’s in Dad’s office right over there, but there are Pirate books too over to the left.”

“Yes, they are Brittany, but not when your Dad visits, only physics books are here when he comes around,” Hilda said sadly.

“Have you brought Brian here too?” Brittany asked.

“Yes, I have.  But he isn’t much fond of it.”

“Why?” Brittany queried.

“Do you see that little shelf with the sports magazines on it, and the copy of The Gruffalo?  That’s his library.

“No Grandma,” Brittany replied very much confused. “I see The Gruffalo but there doesn’t seem to be anything about sports in the whole place.”

“What about over there?” Grandma said pointing.  “Oh, I see some ballet and gymnastic books now,” the little girl said astonished at their appearance.

“You will be amazed by what you will find here,” Hilda said. “Just take your time and explore.  You won’t regret it.”




Tale Weaver – #265 – Library of the Imagination



Dangerous Thoughts

Book, Pen, Notebook, Diary, Desk, Writing, Office


Dear Diary,

I was thinking.  Hey, I am one smart guy.   Really smart.  And the people “in charge,” are stupid, really stupid.  Very stupid indeed.  I would have called them inept, but stupid is a good word.  A terrific word to describe them.  In fact they are losers, they are amazing in their loser-ness, true losers.  I am a winner, I am use to winning, I have been winning my whole life.  So since I am a top guy, really smart, a winner, I think it would be an amazing thing if I was in charge.  I would be tremendous at it.  Yes, it’s time for me to do some more tremendous, like really amazing winning.

Tuesday Writing Prompt: Dangerous Thoughts





A Sad Situation

Beauty In A White Coat, Brunette


Madelyn had always been a healthy and active individual.  She had played field hockey at school, and even was given a scholarship to play the sport at university.  On finishing her degree, she was thrilled to be recruited for a major financial firm near Canary Wharf in London.   All of her Californian friends were envious of the opportunities and experiences she would have.

Her arrival in the UK was in an exceptionally hot summer by British standards, but didn’t seen all that uncomfortable for the San Diego native.  Her flat was modern, yet un-air conditioned, so she spent much of her out of the office time exploring the landmarks or just chilling in Hyde Park.

As October, and then November crept around, Madelyn found the damp chill a little too much to deal with.  She began to spend more and more of her leisure time in the warmth of her amply heated flat.  Despite this she felt increasingly ill.  There were days when she felt so listless that she could barely pull herself from under the bed covers and go to work.

Eventually, with Christmas around the corner, and the fatigue rowing more intense, she scheduled an appointment with her doctor.  Some blood tests were made, and she was told that they would have the results in seven to ten days.  It proved an incredibly long week for Madelyn.  Not only was she constantly exhausted, but she had a nagging worry about the upcoming diagnosis.  Was it cancer? she would muse.  It was almost too much to bear.

Finally the day of the follow-up GP’s visit came.   She entered the doctor’s surgery with apprehension.

“Miss Warren, please take a set,” the doctor said.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” Madelyn blurted out.

“No.  It’s SAD actually,” the GP replied.

“Sad?” Madelyn queried.

“Yes, Seasonal Affective Disorder – that and some low vitamin levels.  It affects a lot of people in Britain.  The low levels of sun light in the Autumn and Winter have a physical impact on the body.  I am going to prescribe some Vitamin D capsules for you, and I recommend that you try a light box.  Many people find they help.

Later that evening, after a trip to Boots Chemists, Madelyn settled onto her bed and plugged in her new Lumie SAD Lamp.  “Well then,” Madelyn said, ” I guess You are my sunshine.”




Saturday Mix – Mad About Metaphor: You are my sunshine