Month: May 2017

Flash Fiction. Meet on a plane

Rick.

I watch the people pushing down the aisle of the plane, hand baggage held like shields. A constant stream pushing and shoving trying to pack oversized bags into lockers. I notice the guy waiting to get to his seat, he’s tall and seems to be very helpful, stowing bags for the people around him. He has a pretty blonde in front I wonder if that’s his lady, she’s delicious. They are moving closer. I am in an aisle seat with two empty seats next to me. Sitting near that lady will enliven my flight. Damn she stows her bag in a locker, two rows in front of me and wriggles into a seat. Hah that’s my entertainment out of the window. The man continues towards me and stops by the row; he removes a book and a bottle of water from his bag and then rearranges bags to make room for his within the locker. He looks familiar but I can’t think why.

“Hi, I have the window seat,” he says. 

“Hi ok, I will move to let you in, bloody small spaces thank heavens it’s not a long flight.”

I stand up and shuffle aside, we are of a height and come eye to eye as we manoeuvre round each other. 

He says, ” Oh my god, aren’t you Rick Anson?”

I look at him still at a loss. ‘Familiar but I can’t place you mate.’

“Right, yes, I am. Sorry, you seem familiar but I can’t think. In what context might I have met you?”

He moves, busies himself removing headphones pillows and blankets from the seat then settles down with a grunt. 

As I move to sit back down he says, “Bonza thought it was you. We have only met once. We both barracked for team Chrissie I am her husband. Jake.” He holds out his hand I shake it whilst thinking ‘Oh he wants to be friendly.’

Oh, great I will now spend the next two hours with the husband of my ex, what a pain. I have no interest in what is happening in her life. I hope he will not rabbit about her or their life. Of all the joints in all the plane why did fate send him to mine?’

“Morning Jake small world.” 

Whilst I am well over Chrissie, I don’t want to appear a loser in his eyes or have him superior because he has the woman. He might feel that way – because he’s fa bloody dickhead – barracking the same team! Jeez! A tad crass. I  prefer not to talk at all but I suppose we have started a dialogue. I need to keep it off Chrissie and either relationship. 

The stewardess comes down the aisle with a tray of champagne or Bucks Fizz, I don’t drink either but in the circumstances.  I need all the help I can get! So, I accept a glass of champagne and knock it back in two swallows. Jake is busy getting his headphones set up that looks promising, I heave a sigh of relief. 

He stays silent through take-off and when I glance across at him his eyes are closed and his hands white knuckled … hah he doesn’t like flying. I smile point to me! 

As the seat belt signs extinguish Jake sits forward and takes a swig of water from his bottle.

He turns ” Phew I bloody hate take offs and landings, it’s made worse with Chrissie she’s a gibbering wreck. I bet she drove you loopy flying.”

“We never flew together.”

“Oh, I see.”

I need to divert him from his Chrissie chitchat, I intend to work so I get my laptop out of my bag.

“I need to work but before we settle, did you watch the State of Origin game?”

“I did. Cool game. It didn’t disappoint. That fight between Myles and Gallens turned the game into a sparring match.”

“Yup what did you think of the referee’s performance?”

“Oh, mate wasn’t he crap….”

I smile diversion accomplished!

Jake.

I am shit scared of flying. It’s not rational but I am a nervous wreck. I have been trying to keep my mind occupied but now here I am in this metal tube full of jostling people.

Aw coomeon move. Move it, I need to get sat down.

“Here let me take that for you madam I will put it in the locker.”

The woman smiles at me she thinks I am being a gentleman I want her. Out of the Way. 

The woman in front of me , blonde and wearing a skimpy top would have aroused me in other circumstances. Now I am willing her, to get the hell out of my way. 

She turns into a row two before mine. There is a guy sitting in the aisle seat, I will have to get him to shift.

I say, “Hi I have the window seat.”

“Hi ok, I will move to let you in, bloody small spaces thank heavens it’s a short flight.”

He stands up and as he unfolds from the row, we land up eye to eye. Oh, bloody hell I am sure it’s Rick Anson my wife’s ex. Wow, I never got the full story there, could be interesting. Wonder if I could get him to talk. At least I have Chrissie he couldn’t keep her. Still I will play it cool it’s not important to our relationship. 

“Oh my god, aren’t you Rick Anson?” I blurt out.

Oh, whoops he’s looking at me as if I have grown two heads, shitte. Jake hardly cool!

“Right, yes, I am. Sorry, you seem familiar but I can’t think. In what context might I have met you?”

Seems grumpy that I recognise him, now I wish I had kept my trap shut. 

I take my laptop and a bottle of water and drop onto the empty seat, stash my bag into the locker and move into the seat space. I drop into my seat foraging around to sort out my seat belt. My head is spinning.

He sits down and my mouth opens of its own volition and I say, “Bonza thought it was you. We have only met once. We both barracked for team Chrissie I am her husband. Jake.” 

I hold out my hand and he shakes, it.

What am I doing?

He replies, “Morning Jake. Small world.”

I sit back and sort out my space, opening the headphones so I can listen to the movie. The stewardess arrives with a tray of poncey drinks champagne things. I decline but Rick accepts and drains his glass. Hope he will not get fighting drunk.

Take off is on me so I shut my eyes, hands clenched hard together telling myself to breathe, bloody purgatory and I so ,do not ,want. To have a panic attack.

I keep my eyes closed breathing steadily, my mouth is dry my heart pounding, and although the air is cold, there are beads of moisture running down my neck. When the tannoy pings I open my eyes,  the seat belt sign is off. I straighten and open my eyes to check around me, Rick is looking up the plane, so I am sure he hasn’t noticed my behaviour. Just to emphasise how fine I am, I take a swig from my bottle of water and then turn to talk to Rick.

” Phew I bloody hate take offs and landings, it’s made worse with Chrissie. She’s a gibbering wreck. I bet she drove you loopy flying.”

“We never flew together.”

“Oh, I see.”

Rick takes a bag from under the seat and takes out a laptop.

He says, “I need to work but before we settle, did you watch the State of Origin game?”

“I did. It didn’t disappoint that fight between Myles and Gallens turned the game into a sparring match.”

“Yup what did you think of the referee’s performance?”

“Oh, mate wasn’t he crap….”

Samantha Beardon.

The word of power

I challenge you, a deal to win

Ignite me, light a spark within

Hold me close, liberate the waves

 Energy, jumping set ablaze

I challege you to spin my dreams

Educate me, help me to  ply my schemes

Join me , help me in my wonder

Send me to the heights, sate my hunger

Liberate and Join  with me

Ignite me,light a spark 

Then set me free.

The vagaries of health information

I hear the news,

 I read the papers

The rules to good health

give me the vapours

Today red wine is good for the heart

Yesterday it was a poisoned dart

Fruit is in and then it’s out

Smoothies are good then

 there is doubt

So I try and try 

to follow the rules

Though I begin to think they 

are written by fools

I give up wine and drink more water

Eat healthy food, pass junk more

 than I oughta

I eat less meat and eat more beans

You can hear me coming 

if you know what I mean

Butters in then it’s out

My poor sober brain begins to doubt

I eat healthy food, I hardly drink

I exercise to reduce

 my bingo wings

It’s all so pointless I feel sad

When healthy living should 

make me glad

I drink more wine, I reduce the water

Read the news want to shoot the reporter

I am on the treadmill what the hell 

Just might just  have a Donut ,as well

I skip the news and censor the paper

I use common sense, maybe a ball breaker

I weigh myself and exercise 

A slim svelte body the ultimate prize

I drink more wine, I dance and sing

Join an exercise class for lots of ping

I weigh myself, I give it up

Throw the scales in the garbage truck.

The detective…a found poem

As he descends the escalator he 

notes, the behaviour

 of the people in front,

The man with the greasy hair

shifting from one foot to the other, 

looking around, shoulders hunched,

Directly behind him, the man in the sharp suit

is typing fast,

onto his Smartphone. 

Both men, and women are running 

down the left side of the stairway, 

past all the static passengers,

he tenses alert for any sign

 of threat,

As he leaves the escalator

he checks the entrances

to both the platforms, automatically,

He moves through onto the platform ,and

is surprised.

By the small number of people

spread along its length,

He savours the space, no need to fight

through a press of bodies 

to get on the train,

He checks the arrivals board,

his train will be in three minutes,

So he moves to the centre 

of the platform, and stands with 

his back to the wall checking

left and right,

To observe the people around him.
Always on duty never able to relax,

Always the detective.

I was challenged to take some lines from a novel and without changing the words to change the firmat to become a found poem. This is my first found poem. 

Love is like an insect

An entomologist of feelings,

Love -lust so appealing,

Like a moth to a flame, time

and again, I am attracted

by your light,

The sound of your voice,

 Arouses me, like a cicada

calling, to a mate,

Drunk on your nectar, like a bee

I am collector,

Love-lust so appealing,

Love lust unreeling,

Will love die

like a tragic mayfly, in the blink of 

an eye,

Or will I be bound like

ants on the ground, to servitude,

Will I hover in the sky like a

sparking firefly,

Forever at the gate trying to attract my soul mate.

Like an empty can

Heartless, heartless like an empty can,

The ripples from your empty vessel

reverberating, through the cosmos,

Destroying all those,you snare

in your web,

Doomed to love only yourself,

All your tomorrows set, to your

narcissistic pleasure,

Heartless, heartless like an empty can,

Feeder on the souls of the innocent,

I swim against the tide of negative emotions,

Ripples of freedom will be my

Tomorrow.
Written to the prompts #heartless #ripple #tomorrow

Revised You

I posted the poem you yesterday I have reviewed it and changed and hopefully improved it what do you think? 
You.
There is no mistaking you,

Standing poised by the jeep, 

Surrounded by  fractured light, like

a being from another  dimension,

Your head thrown back, emitting sounds

that I cannot hear,

 I am imagining, the infectious

booming laughter, rolling from your lips. 

 

Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
As I move closer, you shift, showing

your chiselled profile, from under 

the blue baseball cap,

The dark blue fatigues emphasise the sculpted

compactness of your form,

 I walk quietly towards you, but some sixth sense,

Causes you to turn, and I am caught 

mesmerised, by the brightness of your gaze,

Those glorious grey eyes flecked with gold, dominant 

your tanned face, drawing me into your world, your soul ,

My heart hammers.

 Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

 from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
I see the colours, the colours of the African day,

Reflected in the honey toned 

clarity of your skin, 

The vividness of your eyes, the glinting silver 

stubble  on your chin, 

and the crow’s feet wrinkles, 

mirroring the drought parched land.

Etched in memory.
Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

 from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
 

Firm lips, corners kinked, into the hint of a smile,

 Speak words in accent less English,

Always a surprise given your antecedents, 

There is a hint of croaky gravelliness,  in your diction,

 Some harshness evident,  like the croak of an eagle,

You turn back, then lope off with

 long strides, lithe as a big cat,

Your controlled movements, denote a man of action,

Sexuality oozes, even from your retreating form,

How can you be defined?

My Patchwork picture has empty squares.

 Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

 from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
There is a cold breeze raising goosebumps on my skin,

As you disappear into the heat haze,

Hopes, dreams, and beliefs unshared,

Images blown like paper, Stirring, in the draught 

from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork,

Whirling, swirling always mine.

 

You

There is no mistaking you,

Standing poised by the jeep, surrounded by the fractured light

as the sun bounces off metal and glass,

Your head thrown back, emitting sounds, that I cannot hear,

Although I am imagining, the infectious

booming laughter, rolling from your lips. 

Images blown like paper,

Stirring, in the draft from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork,

As I move closer, you shift, showing

a chistled profile, under the blue baseball cap,

The sculpted solidity of your form in the dark blue fatigues.Alluring.
I walk quietly towards you, but some sixth sense,

Causes you to turn,and I am caught 

mesmerised. By the brightness if your gaze,

Those glorious grey eyes flecked  with gold

Dominant your tanned face. Drawing me into your world,

My heart hammers.
I see the colours, the colours of the African day,

Reflected in the honey toned clarity of your skin, 

The vividness of your eyes, the silver of the 

stubble glinting on your chin, the crows feet

wrinkles, mirroring the drought parched  land.

Etched in memory.
Firm lips. Corners kinked into the hint of a smile,

Open, to speak words in accentless English,

Always a suprise given your antecedents, 

There is a hint of croaky gravelliness in your diction,

 Some harshness evident, registering impatience,

Actions and words, memories and interpretation.
You turn back, then lope  off with long strides, lithe as a big cat ,

Your controlled movements, denote a man of action,

Sexuality oozes, even from your retreating form,

How can you be defined?

Your charm, friends, words, the books you read, the inner man?

My Patchwork picture has empty squares.
There is a cold breeze raising goosebumps on my skin,

As you disappear into the heat haze,

Hopes, dreams,  and beliefs unshared,

Images blown like paper.

Stirring, in the draught from an open window

Whirling, swirling always mine.