Stories

December 16, 2012 - Black Promise

 

black promise

 

Black Promise .

We shall bake a black promise.

One that rises to fill every soul,

leaving no room for sticks and stones.

We shall sit at a table round and bare,

with no heads, no wooden spoons or cups to fill.

We’ll play games for no prizes,

make rainbows without green and red, black and blue.

We’ll shed tears and fears into a well so full

it forever flowed into holding hands,

as trees grew back tall around us,

and grass reached out lush and long,

holding us so high in endless respite

– there would be no end or beginning.

 

( Clunk & Jam book.)

December 7, 2012 - Head To The Place

 

this must be the place

this must be the place type

 

November 6, 2012 - Tick Tock

 

Tick Tock

 

Every Day Is Yours To Win .  (REM song from album ‘Collapse Into Now)

With the walk and the talk and the tick tock clock.  With the rock and the roll and the bridge and the toll.  With the brilliance and the light and the stink and the fight.  And the road ahead of you, I cannot tell a lie, it’s not all cherry pie.  But it’s all there waiting for you, yeah you.  With the warp and the wooze and the subterfuge, does it all look bitter and blue?  Well I’m nothing but confused with nothing left to lose and if you buy that, I’ve got a bridge for you.  Every day is new again.  Every day is yours to win.  And that’s how heroes are made.  I wanted to win.  So I said it again; that’s how heroes are made.

September 13, 2012 - Sand Castles

 

sandcastles image

 

Sand Castles .

A tide of words, only of mine, lap at an unwelcoming world.    And therein the rise and fall is the most masterful play for place.   Where, within its shallow strip, I catch my ‘self’.

(Find in Clunk & Jam book.)

August 20, 2012 - Army of Ink Go Play On The Swings

 

 

army of ink go play on swings

 

Go Play On The Swings .

The want to ride way up high reveals much less.   A moment in the middle that can’t be held.  A view from above stolen from beneath.  I go PLONK.  Caught by the place where soles meet soil.   Much nicer than hanging by a longing for a lift.

This little soldier had a history of plonks.  Each time she played with someone she’d end up getting hurt, which left her wondering if she’d be better off never playing with anyone again.  One day, dumped in yet another plonk, too weary to bound from the stillness that forever taunted her, she sat.  And she sat.   And she sat.  It was in the sitting that she began to wonder if maybe her escape from the plonk would not come from never trusting again.  Maybe the answer lay in trusting herself.  Or perhaps playing only the games that held a balance.  And knowing when it was time to go home before it got too dark.

 

 

(Reposted from 2012.  Originally from handmade book, ‘Rock The Boat’, handwriting by Mags.  Now in Clunk & Jam book, 2019)

August 16, 2012 - A scarecrow, a magpie and treason

 

 

It has a surprisingly happy ending.