We parked up three exits pasts Memory Lane,
you pushing keys on an old Nokia brick,
waving it across my seat for signal
while I sipped water,
bottled and lukewarm.
I didn’t say this was a waste,
though it was
You and your chase
for old conversations,
an old haunt
you forgot and then remembered.
I stayed silent,
and watching you wave.
Written for Inspiration Call: Creative Talents Unleashed list three.
Bring them back out,
all those memories
gathered in darkened gaps.
Those ones we brush past
when hunting for knowledge
or plucking out art,
only to find again
in another’s idle word.
After I posted my entry for Five Sentence Fiction I remember a story my mother had told me about my Great Gran and how went she went ice skating she took a dinning chair with her so she could keep her balance. It struck me that for the prompt ‘frozen’ this would have been the perfect response. So it looks like this week I’m doing two responses and I hope you enjoy this anecdote as much as I did when it was told to me.
When you were young the village pond would freeze and people went skating.
You never struck me as a timid person.
Sharp as thumbtacks, formidable wit.
Yet I’m told the ice scared you, or at least falling did.
So you went skating with the dining chair in front, just in case you slipped.
I’ve just been discussing childhood games with another blogger Lysa Taylor
Now those of you who follow the blog will have already seen snippets from my childhood in some of my previous posts.Grass Stalk Children is based on a trick that my dad taught my sister and I, and my family often crop up in odd little stories such as Bike Ride Foliage since everyone I’m related to seems to have a tendency towards strange, quite often funny accidents.
Anyhow, in this conversation with Lysa Taylor she mentioned making salad from cut grass, and sitting in trees pretending to fly away to far off lands. I responded with “Mud pies with a leafy crust was always out culinary specialty.”
So I fancied setting a prompt for anyone interested.
What is your most memorable imaginary childhood game?
In five hundred words give me your childhood imaginings back when being a princess, a pirate, a dragon, a talking green monster, were all viable lifestyle choices. Make sure to add a pingback to here and I’ll pop by and take a look at what you’ve written. Best of luck and best of fun.
Of high speed projectiles,
drought worthy wit
and the ability to terrify
by being nice.
Ba (Great Grandmother)
Clouded by cobwebs
you tell the same stories
and ask for news
forgotten by the next clock stroke.
You are no longer the apple peeler
whose hands never faltered
in wielding blade or teacup,
whichever was needed
to cater for me.
Though I bare your name
the syllables slip
and you must grasp
at faces I resemble
in the hope you’ll catch a memory
before it fades for good.
You were seventy-seven at my birth
and yet you stood
in photos with me,
constant in attention and love.
I do not know,
a world without.