Three Exits Past Memory Lane

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

of something.


You and your chase

for old conversations,

old moments,

an old haunt

you forgot and then remembered.

I stayed silent,

sipping water

and watching you wave.

Written for Inspiration Call: Creative Talents Unleashed list three.

Dear Ba




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.


Dear Ba,

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.

Mud Pie Anyone

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.




A Word For Each Year You’ve Had (Part 2)

Joanna (Sister)


Of high speed projectiles,

drought worthy wit

and the ability to terrify

by being nice.


Ba (Great Grandmother)

Clouded by cobwebs

these days

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.