No Title

 It is piece where I was asked to provide ten lines of something different, whilst still having a connection to Japanese short form poetry.

In this case I chose to interspersed a tanka with an opening verse from something I wrote back in 2015/16.

No title.

By Robert Kingston

 all at once 

Out into the shadows of mighty cranes trod 

      the cherry on the corner

Distant sound of pulleys, wires whining through the sky 

      releases its blossom 

Muffled sounds of toiling, on occasion a ship's fog horn 

      we reflect on memories 

A milkman laughs and whistles, 

        in the family home 

As birds traverse through Autumn's dewy ply. 

 

By Robert Kingston ~ from (Pan Haiku Review, August 2024)

 

 Riddles 18

By the Riddler

 

The Riddler has two puzzles for us today:

 

No 1.  Which hand is best for stirring sugar into a cup of tea?

 

No 2. Feed me, give me life!   Give me a drink and I will die…  What am I?

 

Keep em coming Riddler

 

 Final Disclosure

Christopher Mathews 

First Contact 

There had been rumours and sightings for years of course.  Since Rendlesham Forest in 1980 and before that the Roswell incident in the US.  But no formal recognition, no government acknowledgement that they existed at all, just blunt official denial, coverups, misdirection and wild press speculation.  People, being what they are, made up their own minds or more accurately, their imaginations. There were no hard facts. 

 

However, decades of speculation came to an abrupt end on the last day of March 2033 when official government disclosure was made obsolete in a most dramatic way.  Every internet site, every TV and radio station, every mobile phone and subdermal coms chip carried the same chilling announcement.

 

Do not be alarmed we have taken control of your communications networks. This message is from the Intergalactic High Council. Humanity has at last come of age.  Your race was ceded by this Council eons ago over infinite space.  You are now on the threshold of solar colonisation, soon you will discover interstellar travel.  

 

But your science and technology have outstripped your wisdom.  You lack self-control, in this you are infants, you will destroy one another and the Earth.  You cannot be trusted to govern yourselves; you cannot yet be allowed to spread beyond your world.

 

Humanity is therefore now under the guardianship of our Interstellar Caretaker, Ansat.  He will meet your world leaders to discuss the transition.  Forty solar cycles from now Ansat will address your world.

 

This announcement sounded wise and benign, even fatherly, but was heavy with the threat of absolute and irresistible power.  The same broadcast was repeated over and over for twenty-four hours, and then communications went back to normal.  But the interruption had caused chaos and barely contained panic. Aeroplanes and stock-markets around the globe both crashed. The delicate balance of modern life, so dependent on technology that we have come to rely upon had been exposed as fragile, and we all now knew it. Humanity was at the mercy of these strangers, and we were powerless. Effortlessly they could disrupt the technological web we have come to rely on.  The food supply chain would collapse overnight, panic would break out, as people squabbled over dwindling supplies.

 

“A loaf of bread for a day’s wages,” the book of Revelation predicted of the last days; a succinct description of social collapse which lies just below the surface of our age.

The folly of our proudly vaunted long life expectancy is just an elusion, as all those dependent on medication would die within a week, because no supplies could get through for lack of fuel. 

 

It is shocking to think that with our technology gone, we are all just one step from being bronze aged goat herders. Hubris had brought us to the brink of collapse.

 

Our world would now cling to their promise that mankind is on the threshold of its next giant evolutionary leap. With this announcement, humanity is truly poised on the edge of the next Cambrian Explosion.  We know that we are not now alone in the vast universe as we once thought, and now nothing would ever be the same again.

 

Over the intervening weeks, the world’s press was fixated on this one story, almost to the exclusion of all else. Examining every implication and possible outcome. Respected scientists, from every discipline, clamoured to give their insights.  Many came forward to say they had been monitoring the massive spaceships in orbit around our little planet for years.  but were forbidden to speak out.  

 

Fringe new age cult groups as well as many mainstream religious leaders like the Pope held massive gatherings. Offering their welcome, announcing Ansat as a saviour, the twelfth Imam, the coming messiah, whilst desperately trying to accommodate this paradigm shift into their traditions.

 

The sense of anticipation mixed with real dread was palpable. No one doubted the truth of the announcement or the validity of their claim. Dissenters were swiftly and silently disappeared.

 

The same worldwide announcement was made every seven days throughout the months of April and May, just as spring was coming into full bloom, but it also brought social unrest, collapse and even chaos.

 

On the fortieth day, all the phone and TV screens changed to a live feed from the White House lawn, in America.   The world’s press was busy setting up cameras. Leaders from all over the planet were gathered.  Our own King, along with all the royal crowned heads of the world were there. The leaders of the world’s religions were distinct in their colourful finery, and most shocking were rulers of nations, which under normal circumstances would never be seen at the same gathering.

 

The Benevolent Guardian 

 

A thundering sound was followed by the shocking sight of a gigantic liquid spaceship landing on the White House lawn.  A hatch opened with a cold metallic hissing sound.  The dignitaries parted as all eyes turned to look upon a terrifying sight.  Countless numbers of 7-foot-tall non-human creatures emerged. Human-like, but only just enough to be recognisable. These looked like monsters made from the discarded remains of all sorts of reptilian creatures.  Their appearance was softened, but not wholly disguised by the fact that they were clothed in what could be, either royal livery or more sinisterly military uniforms.  Each was carrying a long complicated metallic blue object, which ambiguously, could be a royal sceptre or a weapon. They were leading, what to everyone’s relief was a man, a very normal-looking man.  He was rather tall and slender, possibly of Scandinavian or Nordic ancestry.  He approached a microphone set up upon a dais.  His tall, mute entourage fanned out, shoulder-to-shoulder in an arc behind him, obscuring completely the world leaders.  Earth was looking on, holding its breath.

He spoke with a soft engaging voice, delivered in a clear and refined English accent.  Afterwards, others told me that he had an educated American voice, or spoke in perfect fluent French.  It seems to me that each person heard him in the voice they instinctively most trusted.  Oddly, none of the recordings made of that announcement can be recovered, they were all blank.  Finally, he cleared his throat and addressed the waiting world…

 

My children, it is a real joy to us that humanity has at last come of age.  But you are like adolescents who have discovered the first strength of manhood, but not the maturity to wield it.  Think of me as your guardian, taking care that you do not destroy yourselves before you can walk on your own. Or, if you prefer, as a schoolteacher settling squabbles in the playground.

 

I represent the will of the ‘Intergalactic High Council of Sentient Beings’ who, in their beneficence wish to invite mankind to our table when you are ready. Until that time, you must submit to our custodianship.

 

Your leaders have therefore agreed to surrender their power and authority to me, for a while.  I have crossed the vast expanse of space over millions of years in peace and friendship to…

 

But here, his soft voice and seductively reasonable words were abruptly interrupted by a break in the transmission.  A dishevelled looking old man appeared in what was obviously a makeshift studio.  He was half recognisable as the leading physicist who had been appointed by our own government.  He had met with the interstellar delegation when first contact was made, but soon after had mysteriously disappeared.

 

The unmasking

He lies; they are not what they claim to be.  They have not travelled across space to bring peace. They have always walked among us.  They flatter with the notion that ‘humanity has come of age’ or with an invitation to the ‘high table of sentient beings’, but they have appeared to subjugate humanity.  They impress with technology because it is in technology and science that we have placed our faith.  We have abandoned the God who made us and have surrendered to the demons who would enslave us.

 

History is littered with their malevolent presence bringing oppression and misery to mankind.  They are interdimensional beings; they occupied the shadows, the dark matter, they are the goblins and ghosts. The demigods and demons of ancient literature they are the Nephilim of the bible. The devils and the fallen angels of history reinvented as space beings. Subjugation is their plan; they seek to bring hell to earth and obliterate the Imago Dei and re-make man in their own image.

Ansat is nothing more than a demon masquerading as an Angel of light. He came to deceive and enslave humanity in chains of darkness and proclaim himself as God…..

 

But here the screen went blank, all screens went blank, all communication went blank, each of us was now alone, facing an uncertain future.

 

Copyright Christopher Mathews

 

THE CHALLENGE OF NATIONS

 THE CHALLENGE OF NATIONS (The New Olympic sport.)  

By Bob French

I was in a bad mood.  If Mavis bloody Hetherington had not caught chicken pox, I would be down on the east stand of Craven Cottage watching Fulham kick the stuffing out of Accrington Stanley.  Instead, I’m sitting listening to the forty-nine or so delegates whose countries they had represented and participated in the 2028 and 2032 summer Olympic Games, and was trying to filter out whose ten penny-worth of ideas were both logical and possible. 

The Chair of the Executive Committee of the Games of the Olympiad, that’s the summer games to the likes of me and you, had open the meeting with only one agenda item, which ended up a free-for-all shouting match, which, if my ears didn’t fail me, the Germans were just a little bit louder than the French, which didn’t surprise me.

          As I slowly glanced around the room, I was impressed at the shape of everyone. They all looked young, fit, and well-groomed. I knew many of them from my participation in the 2024 and 2028 games, and guessed that most were the same age as me, but it was quite noticeable that there was a distinct lack of spare tires, baggy-eyes and cheeks and double chins, even those whose hair had turned grey did their level best to hide it with heavy duty hair dye.

          The agenda was only one item; it was felt that most of the events that took place in the past two Summer Games had reached their human performance ceiling; No one could jump higher than 2.68 meters any more, or sprint the 100 meters faster than 8.75 or to complete the marathon in under 2 hours. And to compound the decision there some sports now banned because it was felt they were too dangerous; such as boxing, wrestling, long distance running, white water canoeing, rock climbing and due to the EU wide ban on the use of horses in sporting events, all equestrian events were scrapped. The purpose of this meeting was to come up with a new set of sports for the 2036 summer games.

As I glanced around the room, I suddenly felt, not uncomfortable, but a little out of place, and grinned as I took a quick look down at my spare tyre.  I felt proud of the time and money I had invested into creating this master piece, and of the time felt pleased that I no longer spent lifting weights or pounding the track day after day. 

A loud voice caused me to look down to the head of the table.

“Je ne comprendess passsst Woman, for God sakes!” and smiled as Mr. Azlaney Yilmaz, the Turkish national swimming coach, whose turn it was to chair such meetings, was gradually losing his temper with Madame Charlotte Montpellier, who had won gold in the wrestling in 2028 games. You see the admin language of the Olympics movement is French and try as he may, old Azlaney’s grasp of the French language was absolutely pants. He tried to talk over her and I felt like discretely warning him that Madame Montpellier had a bit of a reputation for slapping any person who was upsetting her, and by the look of things, that wasn’t very far away.

The person on my left was a woman who should really have been on the cover of Vogue or Cosmopolitan.  She was Swedish and had a smile to die for. I had already met her at the bar and we struck up a decent conversation.  Her name was Helga and I quickly forgot her surname as I couldn’t pronounce it. She and I had participated in the 2032 games in Australia. She had won two silver medals; I got drunk and missed the finals.

We talked for a few minutes about what she was going to propose and thought her idea would probably be alright, but her proposal still centered on the athlete being ultra fit to compete and win, which I then tried to explain to her that the reason we were here was to discuss some alternative sports.

Suddenly, Azlaney lost his temper with Madame Montpelier.  Stood and began bashed the gavel several times to bring some order to the meeting.  It was the Norwegian representative who tugged at Azlaney’s sleeve and quietly informed him that everyone in the room was already silent.

“Oh, thank you. We are here today to suggest alternative events for future summer games. You have all had ten minutes to test your ideas with representatives from other nations, yes? So I shall start with you Heer Dr. Karlstadt from Germany.

The tall and elegant man stood and in perfect French spoke.

“Firstly, I would like to retain the fitness elements of all events and…”

Before he could finish the sentence, be was instantly interrupted by several other representatives who shouted him down.

“This is not what we are here for,” seem to be the cry. Some simply banged the table in protest.

Azlaney gradually worked his way around the table until he came to the Irish delegate.

“Mr. chairman, I would like to propose that instead of the 100-meter sprint, the 200 and 400 meters and the 110 hurdles. The athletes line up as usual, on hearing the pistol, they race to the first hurdle and drink a lemonade, then onto the second hurdle and drink a spritzer and so on with the drinks getting stronger as they move down the course until they reach the finish.  The winner is the person who drinks all the drinks and spills none of it.  This method can be used for the steeple chase, the 800, the 1500 meters and by four-by-four relay.

This proposal was met with an outcry as it virtually destroyed the ethos of the Olympics.  Madam Montpelier stood and clapped her hand to bring silence to the meeting which was really getting out of hand.

“Mr. Chairman, I would like to suggest that we each put our names on a piece of paper and you select the name from a hat. The person chosen then stands up and gives a brief description of his proposal. That way there is no cheating, but everyone must agree to the changes to be introduces and agree to adopt them.”

The room fell into silence. Azlaney stood and glanced at each person around the table. “Well, what do you think?  We need a method of selecting the new events or we shall be here all week.”

There was an unhealthy murmur starting to build up in the room, but I picked up from looking around the table, that most of the delegates thought it was a fair way to arrive at a solution.

Azlaney turned to one of the secretaries and asked her to provide each representative with paper and pencil, then asked the woman who had just brought in the coffee to empty one of the ice buckets, and dry it thoroughly, then go and stand at the other end of the table.

When he thought that everyone had completed the task, he asked the coffee lady to slowly go around the table and allow each delegate to drop their name into the bucket.

“Now, I shall ask…..” 

“Excuse me Sir.”  It was the coffee lady who had interrupted him and was looking a little bit flushed.

“Yes, what is it my dear?”

“How many pieces of paper are each delegate permitted to put into the bucket?”

“Only one, why?”

“Well, the gentleman sitting next to the man in the brown suit put three pieces of paper into the bucket.”

You could have heard a pin drop as everyone turned and looked at the Russian delegate.

Azlaney asked the coffee lady to bring the bucket to him, then carefully sifted through the pieces of paper until he found the three pieces of paper with the Russian’s name on them.  He slowly took them out and ripped them up in-front of everyone.

“Mr. Yashkenski, kindly leave this room.  I shall brief the Executive committee of your conduct and strongly suggest that your country be barred from the next two Olympic games.”

In total silence, Yashkenski slowly stood, turned, and left the room. Once the door had closed, everyone in the room burst into cheers and poor old Azlaney had another ten minutes of trying to bring some sort of order with his gavel.

He then reshuffled the bucked and invited the coffee lady to pick one piece of paper from it.

She moved forward, rose up onto her tip toes and picked a piece of paper.

“Mr. Ron Jenkins of Great Britain, please stand up and give the meeting your proposal?

“Mr. Chairman and fellow delegates.  I suggest that events where brute strength is used to win, be replaced with board games. Each nation to provide a variety of their national games with a warm-up period where other nations can learn how to play them.”

There was an eerie silence as each delegate pondered what I had said, then, without any warning, the room erupted into applaud.

Copyright Bob French

 NO ESCAPE 

By Peter Woodgate 

It was dance night at The Gaumont State

I was there, as usual, with my best mate.

We’d been there, many times before,

Sometimes we’d dance, take to the floor

But mostly, we just watched the girls

Their hair piled high but some with curls.

With mini skirt and tight sweater,

Who could ask for anything better.

But, on that night, I saw you there,

All I could do was stand and stare.

You smiled, but there was something more,

as you stood there on the dance floor.

I asked if I could walk you home,

You said “Oh No” I didn’t moan.

You then said “I have come by bus”

I said, “no problem, what’s the fuss?”

So we jumped on the number eight

Then went upstairs to smoke,

We looked into each other’s eyes

But we never spoke.

For we knew, as stops passed by

That we would kiss, both you and I.

I didn’t need a chat-up line

as your eyes looked into mine.

No usual banter, no red tape,

My heart was captured, no escape.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

Riddles 17

 Riddles 17

 

By the Riddler

The Riddler has two puzzles for us today:

 

No 1.  Though not alive I have five fingers; what am I?

 

No 2.  Which word is written INCORRECTLY in the Dictionary?   

 

Keep em coming Riddler

 

Drink on me

Drink on me

By Jane Goodhew

Drink on me you said.

So, I went to the bar and ordered the wine.

The waiter brought it over.

As he proceeded to pour, I noticed you were no more.

Sat at the table but perched at the bar.

Your hand under your chin as you stared into her eyes.

 Laughed at her jokes and paid for her drink.

So, remembering what you had said about.

Drink on me

I, glass of red wine in my hand,

Walked with my head held high,

Then I raised the glass and watched your face turn pale

As I said aloud “You said have a drink on me”

And that is what you have

The wine rang down and stained  his shirt

But so what, he should not have been such a flirt!

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 Riddles 16

By the Riddler

 

The Riddler has two puzzles for us today:

 

No 1.  One in a minute, two in a moment, but never in a thousand years!  What?

 

No 2.  What tyre doesn’t move when a car turns right?   

 

Keep em coming Riddler

 A STRANGE PARADISE

By Bob French

It was my tenth birthday and my Mum had arranged for some of my class mates to come over for a birthday party. Halfway through stuffing my face full of birthday cake and sweets, my dad appeared dressed in some sort of explorer’s outfit.  He had a slouch hat, dark glasses and sandy coloured jacket and slacks.  I noted that his boots were desert boots and had seen some service by the state of them.

He waived his arms around until the room fell into silence.

“OK, Who’s for an adventure?”

Everyone started cheering as I looked at my Mum.  Dad never did anything spontaneous before.  He usually just sat in front of the TV while Mum rushed around the house doing things like making the beds, doing the washing or cooking.  Anyway, he told us all to make a line in the hall way and wait until he was ready.

We must of stood there for nearly ten minutes, then the front door opened, letting the bright warm sunshine flood our hallway.

“Right follow me.  No one must get left behind, so keep checking behind you to see if your friend is there.”

With that we followed Dad out of the house, marching as we went.  He turned down the side of the house and up to the back of a small lorry.

“Right, everyone in.  Once you are in, seat yourself down on the cushions and get comfortable.  The ride won’t take long.”

We’d gone no more that five minutes before Jimmy, the boffin of our class, started to look a little green.  Then without warning he vomited up most of the birthday cake he had stuffed into his face.

Frank, who had been complaining about the amount of cake Jimmy was eating at the party laughed. “That’ll teach you to be such a porker Jimmy.  I think we should call you ‘oink’ from now on.”  This brought laughter from all his friends, where the fear of being sick once filled the back of the lorry.

Suddenly, the lorry started to bump around as though it was driving fast over a ploughed field.  The boys cheered and the girls screamed as they were thrown all over the place.

Then without warning, the lorry came to a halt, bringing a sigh of relief of everyone. The back doors were opened and Dad laughed as he peered into what looked like a mass of bodies scattered all over the place.

“Anyone hurt?  No! Right then get back onto your cushions and put these face masks on.  You must not play with them or take them off or try and sneak a peep.  If you do the magic spell which is about to be cast upon each of you will not work.  The last time a party came this way, one of the boys took his face mask off.”

He left a pause until Joan asked. “What happened to him Mr Jenkins?”

Dad simply said in a quiet, haunting voice “I don’t know.  He vanished.  No one ever heard of him again, so follow the rules and no peeping. Now line-up.

Once we were in a straight line, Dad started to chant some foreign gibberish language which I assume was the magic spell.  When he finished, He asked us all to shout “Ingo Alohomora,” which I recalled reading in one of Harry Potters books.

Once we had yelled the magic spell we were told to turn to our left.

“Now please put your left hand on the shoulder of the person in front of you and start to march.” We could hear the sounds of laughter and music, and Frank yelled out, “We are going to the fair.” But without warning the party turned a sharp left and suddenly the warmth of the sun had left us.  Now it was cold, and there was a wind that rushed over us, ruffling our hair, and the sounds we had heard before had gone.

We walked for about ten minutes until Dad yelled to everyone to stop. The suspense was killing me, something my dad always said when he was watching the TV. Then one by one he flicked a switch on our masks.  Everyone gasped.

“Stand still and one of my hunters will assist you into the chief’s hut.  Whatever happens, do not panic, or attempt to take off your mask.

I could hear most of my class mates chattering nervously. Then I felt someone take my hand and carefully guide me into somewhere warm.

My hunter adjusted my mask and suddenly I was transported into the deep undergrowth of a massive rain forest. I heard Joan scream with delight behind me.  Without warning a huge warrior looking man approached me and pointed me to follow him.  Fear took over and I did as I was told.  He took me deep into a beautiful forest where a huge array of brightly coloured butterflies fluttered around my head.  Very gently I raised my hand and they settled on it. Frank was ahead of me and I smiled because he had found a stump of an old tree and had sat down and was talking to a pair of monkeys who had come down from the trees to speak to us.

Over to my right I could see Joan and Margaret, gently stoking a huge python snake that had, like the monkey’s, come down from the canopy to investigate who the new guests were to their part of the forest.

I heard my dad calling us back to the Chief’s huge mud hut.  He smiled at me. “It’s time to go hunting.” And before the rest of my friends could protest, they were given bows and arrows and spears. 

Without warning, the chief hunter raised his hand and we followed him deep into the jungle. At first, we walked slowly and carefully, not wanting to give our position away to the pray.  We heard a variety of wild animal sound, but nothing charged us or frightened us. Then as if by magic, the bushes opened up and we stood and stared at a small lake surrounded by a variety of wild animals.  The chief hunter told us where to stand and not to move.  I was totally fascinated by the variety of animals that stood side by side and drank from the lake.  

The chief hunter then looked up at the sun and nodded, then quietly, we moved back into the lush green jungle and made our way quietly back to the Chief’s encampment.

Dad met us and explained that it was dinner time and we had all been invited to eat with the chief. He reminded us that if we refuse the food offered you will offend the Chief and his people.”

I could see the expression of fear on my friends faces as the invite sank into their minds. It was Frank who broke the silence.

“I think we should ask Oink to taste the food first as he seems to be the expert.”

No sooner had he said it, than Jimmy had taken a bowl from one of the serving maidens and started to munch his way through the food.

“Frank, this is really good food.  I think it tastes like trifle.”

That was all it took to change the minds of everyone.

Once they had finished the food offering, The Chief then explained to my dad that it was time for dancing.  Now I might be good at football, cricket and even swimming, but I can’t dance to save my life.

The drums started to beat to a rhythm and we were all dancing around a huge sparking fire, screaming and laughing, except Oink, who had eaten too much and was slumped down beside the Chief’s daughter. 

My dad took me and Frank aside briefly and warned us that what ever happens, Jimmy was to leave with us two or he will end up being either married to the Chief’s daughter or their next meal for the Chief’s tribe.

The evening became darker as the time dragged on and then dad raised his hand.

“Right everyone.  It is time to get back home.  Frank. Remember what I told you about Jimmy.”

We danced for a few minutes more then we were told to get back into a line, put our hand on the shoulder in front of us and we started to move again.  The journey back in the lorry was just as rough, but we didn’t mind.  The party and the adventure out into the strange paradise had been something I would never forget.

“Alright everyone, please carefully remove your face masks and hand them to Harry, our driver.  I hope you enjoyed the expedition and remember; no one must know that you have been deep into the rain forest. And met up with Chief Monoluggo and his tribe.”

That night my dad sat down in front of the TV and drank his tea. “You know luv, hirering those Virtual reality masks for the party were a good idea.

Copyright Bob French

 When Life takes you to a Difficult place

By Jane Goodhew

 

 

When life takes you to a difficult place

Which one day it will                                                 l

Where choices seem too hard to make

Sit awhile and think so you can choose with care

Give yourself some space                                                                     

                                                                  

Do not rush where angels fear to tread

Or remain stagnant for fear or dread

Of things that may never happen

For they may drive you to tears

Your imaginary fears

 

Sometimes we need to strike whilst the iron is hot    

For a stitch in time saves nine they say

 But at others

Enter the world of make believe

To a fictional land                   

                                                                                    

To sit or lie upon the sand                                                                

And hear the waves splash upon the shore

Or be high up a hill where life seems so peaceful and still

 

Where you just watch the clouds go by

and see so many things fly high into the sky

 

Depending on the time of day

You can see

Not just changing colours but imaginary people or animals   

                              

that were once perceived as gods               

they are still there in the clouds                                

so just let your fantasies run wild

                                                                                                                                

At night, look for the moon so bright

 it will lead the way

To yet another place           

In the galaxy beyond the stars

Take your time so that you may see

Which choice to make which road to take    

 

   Copyright Jane Goodhew