ginkgo leaves
I take you daily
in tablet form, however
I’ve forgotten why
~
For Carpe Diem prompt no. 500: ginkgo leaves
Need more ha ha haiku? Click here 🙂
Advertisements
carpe diem haiku: buttercups
buttercups
held under your chin
yellow means you love butter
as does your wide waist
~
For Carpe Diem prompt no. 499: buttercups
Need more ha ha haiku? Click here 🙂
carpe diem haiku: butterfly
butterfly
you used to flit, but
your flitting days are over,
cruel formaldehyde
~
For Carpe Diem prompt no. 498: butterfly
Need more haiku humour? Click here 🙂
carpe diem haiku: nakedness & other dangly bits
nakedness
your drooping member
has given me the giggles
please put some clothes on
This is for the Carpe Diem Haiku prompt no. 497: nakedness, and it’s my first attempt at haiku. I’m probably not following the complex and myriad rules of haiku, but I enjoyed myself so much that I went back over some of this month’s earlier prompts.
Here’s my Carpe Diem June Catch Up:
nights of summer
drizzle penetrates
we shiver in cardigans
summer in Britain
~
after loving
we lie back and smoke
our post-coital cigarettes
then one of us farts
~
hot springs
miracle water
disappoints as it’s not quite
hot enough for tea
~
kissing
lips slip, noses bump
teeth clash, I wish I could kiss
like they do in films
~
breeze
a warm wind cometh
too much broccoli, methinks
better out than in.
~
dawn
we watch the sun rise
wide awake, praying for sleep
damned amphetamines
~
being lazy
I bought a stair-lift,
there’s nothing wrong with my legs
I just can’t be arsed.
Friday Fiction: Perforated Walls
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Photo prompt copyright Mary Shipman
Perforated Walls
Maureen was suffering from palpitations, mood swings and night sweats. Her mother recognised the symptoms immediately.
‘The Change, Mum? Seriously? I’m too young!’
‘Nonsense, dear,’ said her wise old mum. ‘It comes when it comes.’
That night, Maureen felt worse than ever.
*
Come morning, Maureen’s mother clambered over what remained of the door, ‘How was your night?’
‘The facial hair’s pretty unpleasant,’ Maureen said, surveying the destruction of the previous night, the shredded curtains, perforated walls and splintered furniture. ‘But running wild, eating whatever I damn well please was seriously liberating . And you say this happens every full moon?’
(100 words)
________________________________________________________________________________________________
For those who don’t know, Friday Fictioneers is a challenge to write a 100 word story from a picture prompt. It’s hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and anyone can play. Thanks for hosting, Rochelle! Check out the link below to see what other fictioneers did with this week’s prompt.
Need more Friday Fiction? Click the blue frog to read more stories from other fictioneers!
Need more stuff to read? Give Firewords Quarterly a go (there’s one of my stories in Issue One!)
No More Picking Up Other People’s Shit
(This is the full version of my Friday Fiction story: Eau De Teenager’s Bedroom)
No More Picking Up Other People’s Shit
JANUARY
Ellen pins her resolution to the notice-board: No more picking up other people’s shit.
‘Mummy swore!’ says her youngest, Lucy.
‘Challenge accepted,’ says her eldest, Danny.
FEBRUARY
A ripe pungency escapes from Danny’s room.
‘What’s that smell?’ asks Lucy.
‘Smell?’ says Ellen, adjusting the clothes-peg on her nose.
MARCH
Danny’s room disappears under magazines, washing, junk. He’s hunting for candles.
‘What for?’ asks Ellen.
‘Can’t find the light switch,’ says Danny. ‘Or the window.’
APRIL
‘I give up,’ Ellen adjusts her gas mask. ‘I’m coming in!’
Danny calls down the stairs, ‘Lucy, you owe me a fiver!’
MAY
Danny gloats.
Ellen glowers.
In her son, Ellen sees a young man who understands the meaning of the term ‘woman’s work’ and it makes her sick.
JUNE
Ellen pins her mid-year resolution to the notice-board: Everyone does chores.
Danny gets the dishes. He stomps. Lucy gets the hoovering. She cries.
‘But Mummy,’ she says. ‘I like hoovering and washing-up, why do I have to choose?’
In her daughter, Ellen sees a young girl who understands the meaning of the term ‘woman’s work’ and it makes her sick.
JULY
Danny washes up each night without complaint. He’s quick too. Ellen is pleased and celebrates with a fish and chip supper. She asks Lucy to fetch the plates.
There are no plates in the cupboard. There are no plates in the sink. Where are the plates?
Danny!
AUGUST
Ellen buys a new dinner set and stands over Danny while he washes up each night. Sometimes they talk.
Lucy no longer complains about not being allowed to clean and is playing in her room.
Progress, thinks Ellen.
(Lucy is secretly cleaning the bathroom, but we’ll let Ellen have her fantasy a little longer).
SEPTEMBER
It’s Danny’s seventeenth birthday! He wants a car, a computer and a personal maid.
Ellen wants to hit him on the head with a salami. She doesn’t though. She buys him a birthday cake, ten driving lessons and a pair of rubber gloves.
Lucy eyes the gloves jealously.
OCTOBER
Ellen steps up the ante. She shows Danny how to use the washing machine.
Danny actually shows an interest. Possibly because of the knobs, dials and flashing lights.
Lucy wants to clean the bathroom as part of her chores. Ellen agrees, it’s an easy job as the bathroom never seems to get particularly dirty.
NOVEMBER
Danny is thriving in his dual role of chief washer-upper and chief launderer.
(There was a Red Sock Incident early on, but Danny says pink is ‘in’.)
Ellen is looking forward to Christmas with her well-rounded, fully-functioning children.
DECEMBER
Ellen walks in on Lucy surreptitiously polishing the silver.
‘Would you look at that shine, mum!’ she says.
Ellen walks out.
Danny has an announcement.
‘I’m leaving college and opening a laundrette,’ he says.
There will be no brandy in the brandy butter this Christmas. It’s all in Ellen instead.
She pins a notice to the notice-board.
Buy more brandy, it says. And stop making bloody resolutions.
Friday Fiction: Eau De Teenager’s Bedroom
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Eau De Teenager’s Bedroom
January.
Ellen pins her resolution to the noticeboard: No more picking up other people’s shit.
‘Mummy swore!’ says her youngest, Lucy.
‘Challenge accepted,’ says her eldest, Danny.
February.
A ripe pungency escapes from Danny’s room.
‘What’s that smell?’ asks Lucy.
‘Smell?’ says Ellen, adjusting the clothes-peg on her nose.
March.
Danny’s room disappears under magazines, washing, junk,
‘What are the candles for, Danny?’
‘Can’t find the light switch,’ says Danny. ‘Or the window.’
April.
‘I give up,’ Ellen adjusts her gas mask. ‘I’m coming in!’
‘Stop!’ Danny points at her feet. ‘Shoes off first. Were you born in a barn?’
(100 words)
Following on from a couple of comments I received, and having a few hours to pass on a train yesterday, I wrote an extended version of this called No More Picking Up Other People’s Shit. Find out about Ellen’s next resolution, Lucy’s secret obsession and Danny’s future ambitions in this 500 word story!
________________________________________________________________________________________________
For those who don’t know, Friday Fictioneers is a challenge to write a 100 word story from a picture prompt. It’s hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and anyone can play. Thanks for hosting, Rochelle! Check out the link below to see what other fictioneers did with this week’s prompt.
Need more Friday Fiction? Click the blue frog to read more stories from other fictioneers!
Need more stuff to read? Give Firewords Quarterly a go (there’s one of my stories in Issue One!)
