Flesh & Spirit

By Len Morgan 

"Oh, mighty Karnak, greatest of all the gods.  Why do you allow your high priest and most faithful servants so brief a span upon this earth?"  Shovanni raised his arms wide and gazed into the sky.  "Why can I not live longer beneath the sun and enjoy the bounty of youth throughout my lifespan?"

"Mmm row ruff ruff," the tiny black Chihuahua bitch scratched at his legs demanding his attention.

Karnak smiled, "You have a puppy who is two of your years do you not?"

"I do, lord Karnak," he sat down and ruffled the dog's fur, stroking her gently.  She climbed up his raiment, licked his face and wagged her tail, combing his beard with her claws 

"You are fond of her are you not?"  The god spoke and gained form against the backcloth of an ultramarine blue sky. 

"Truly I am, my Lord," Shovanni answered as he gazed up fearfully at Karnaks image blooming in the sky.  Saphi was unconcerned, chewing at her master's beard growling with contentment.

"I can see she is dearly beloved and returns your love in equal measure.  You have always shown great affection for the canine species," his visage wore a benevolent smile.

"That is also true my Lord."

"Tell me Shovanni, my faithful companion on earth.  How many dogs have been your companions throughout your life?"

"Five thus far my Lord.  Tansi, Drammi, Poppi, Benji and Saphi," tears came to his eyes, as he called to mind the memories of each companion.

"Why so sad?"

"They were good and faithful companions, but their life spans were so brief, a mere twelve to sixteen years."

"Then they died?" Shovanni said nothing.  "They live a full and happy life and when they became sick, wracked with pain you ended their suffering mercifully did you not? 

"Ay that is true Lord," he looked dejected, eyes downcast.

"That was good.  You acted in the best interest of your companions despite your own sadness and feelings of loss."

"If I loved them, I had to spare them the misery of a failing body and mind.  If I could, I would have extended their lives but, not their pain."

"That is the way of all flesh Shovanni, my good companion.  All living things have a span of years, beyond which they deteriorate and expire, in spite of the desires of gods and men."  Karnak's image now looked sad, as he thought of all the men who had been his earthly companions.  He'd witnessed Shovanni's birth and dedication to his service.  He knew at Shovanni's first cries that this question would arise.  "You have taught your son his duties as your successor?"

"Yes lord Karnak.  He is ready."

"Bring him to me when you feel it is time to relinquish your ties with the flesh.  You will then be welcome to join me here in my world of the spirit.  Here you will join your predecessors and live on forever."

"How can that be lord?  My body will be consigned to the ground, food for worms."

"Think on the humble caterpillar that eats to create a cocoon, its life done.  Then it bursts forth and takes to the sky in a wonderful new guise?"

"I cannot believe humans capable of such a metamorphosis lord."

"Then ask a caterpillar if he is aware of the wonderful new existence that awaits him..."

 

Copyright Len Morgan

 

THE EVICTION

By Peter Woodgate 

Whilst dozing by the telly and well into a dream

tranquillity was shattered by a piercing scream

it seems Jo’s mum, had telephoned, to say she’d seen a mouse

she wasn’t going to sleep a wink, what’s more, she’d sell the house.

When Jo regained composure, she said, “don’t worry Mum,

Pete will come right over, armed with torch and gun.

So, off I go to Tallow Gate to exorcise the beast

being told, it was quite big, two foot six, at least.?

When I get there Mum’s in the chair, her skirt up by the light,

“can you see it?” she remarks, not a pretty sight.

“It went into the hall,” she says, “as big as a bloody cat,

“Where’s it come from? Where’s it gone? Do you think it is a rat?”

And so I search, with torch in hand, each dark and awkward place,

and then inside the bathroom, I see a tiny face.

It’s poking out from behind the bin, I have him now, I think,

but out the little bleeder shoots, he’s quicker than a blink.

Down the hall and round the bend then into Mum’s bedroom,

I’ll never get him now, I’m sure, that’s what I assume.

But just in time, help arrives and Tony’s there on cue,

“Well, what’s the score? How big is it?” and “what is there to do?”

I’d hoped that Tony came prepared and ready for the crunch

but with gloves and tea-towel, I thought it more like lunch.

The tea-towel proved a masterstroke and we cornered him at last

pity that we wrecked the room and smashed a pane of glass.

We wrapped him in the tea-towel that scared and lonely mouse

and Tony let him free outside, evicted from “Big Momma’s” house.

So, in future, if you see, a rat or tiny mouse,

just call out catchers Pete and Tone to free them from your house.   

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate     

 

My Great Epic Chapter 1

By Len Morgan 

I took my reserved seat and started writing my great Epic just as the train pulled out of the station. My writing wavered left, right, up and down. I paused, to rub out the unintelligible scrawl, waiting for the train to hit a smooth stretch.

 I put pencil to paper again. The train went over the points and my pencil wavered left, right, up and down, so I went for coffee. I returned to find somebody had opened a window and an icy chill settled, as I sat down to start writing again. 

 I set my coffee on the table, just as the train jerked violently, the hot coffee poured onto my journal and onto my pants. I went to the restroom to sponge my trousers, and returned to find my journal soaked through; the great Epic would have to wait for another day.

I am sitting in my favourite chair, at home, 'Eine Kleine Nachtmusik' by Mozart playing in the background.  The temperature is 18 degrees.  I have a glass of cool rum & coke in one hand, as I take up my pen with the other to write in my new journal:

 

The Great Epic ~ Chapter 1...

 

 

 

Ink Blot #1
 

By Dawn Van Win

 

A man in a hat

Took a dog

For a walk

Companionable silence

The dog

Couldn’t talk

 

So on they strolled

‘Though they didn’t go far

The dog had bad hips

The man

Had no car 

 

 

 

 

Nuts & The Stranger

 

NUTS

by Rosemary Clarke

Nuts are good for you so I am told.
They're sweet and they're crunchy and never grow old.
We've put them in cakes or have eaten them raw
They come out at Christmas, and then we want more.
We don't eat enough of them
Of that it is true.
I can't see why, when nuts are so good for you.
P.S. and raisins.

 

THE STRANGER

by Rosemary Clarke

Spiders webs with spiders all over the place
Tangling my hair, covering my face
The room is darkened and covered in gore
I didn't know, now I won't live here no more.
Go out in the sunlight, live once again
No matter the trouble, no matter the pain.
Just keep forging onward that's all I can see
Then finally I'll find the stranger called 'ME'.

Copyright Rosemary Clarke

 

WHY?

Peter Woodgate 

He looked around at life

that stuttered meaningless,

from day today.

 

He watched the news on TV

saw inhumanities

and heard what politicians had to say.

 

He looked at mighty mountains

at wooded valleys

and seas that ebbed and flowed.

 

At natural disasters

unhappiness within the world

and points of light that glowed.

 

He witnessed birth

experienced death

saw arms raised to the sky.

 

He read the mighty word of God

the contradictions raised

and wondered WHY?  

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate  

 

A Hard Life

by Janet Baldey

“Between Tesco’s and the station, that’s where you’ll find me. Riding the pavement from dawn till dusk.  It’s a good pitch, the best. You get a steady stream of shoppers raiding Tesco’s and later there's party goers back from an evening in Town.  But it’s a hard being me.  I thought of getting meself a dog, for company as well as the sympathy vote, but I wouldn’t wish my life on any animal. For starters, it’d have to put up with the verbal abuse. Not that it bothers me, I’m used to it.  It was my lullaby when I was a kid. There’s nothing folk can say to me that I haven’t heard before.

 Have you ever been lonely?   I don’t mean like if your family are away for a bit, or you’re on your tod in a strange town -  I mean really lonely.  Like when you know no-one in this world gives a toss about you.  You could die in your sleep and no-one would care, or even notice, except they would because the pavements have to be kept clear of dead bodies, ‘cos it would never do to have commuters tripping over them.  

Sometimes I watch little kids going in and out of the supermarket, clutching their Mum’s hand or swaying on their Dad’s shoulders and feel I could kill for a childhood like that.  My mum never loved me. Not in the slightest.  I often wonder why she never got some pills and flushed me down the toilet when she first realised she was up the duff.   Too stoned, I suppose, or drunk, and eventually I popped out of her fanny. 

         My gran took care of me.   She loved me – when I was little she used to take me to the park to feed the ducks, only I didn’t understand and ate the bread meself.    

‘No, lovie, that’s for them fellas over there, the ones with the feathers.’   Then, she’d roar with laughter and give me a hug.

 Sometimes we made gingerbread together. I mixed the ginger in with the flour and when she’d rolled out the mixture, I cut out shapes of little men.  Lovely, they were. We ate them straight out of the oven, warm and crumbly they melted in yer mouth. I remember their taste and me mouth fills with water.  Yeah.   My gran loved me.   Although sometimes she’d cry and stroke my hair and call me her ‘poor little lamb’, but she’d never say why although, looking back, I think she knew. Then, she died and left me all alone.

 I lived with Mum afterwards.  At first, I didn’t understand why Gran wasn’t there and kept crying for her. Mum use to yell at me, said I was getting on her nerves.  She’d throw me in a bedroom and lock the door.

There was a constant stream of men coming in and out but I never knew their names.  I reckon Mum didn’t know either ‘cuz she told me to call them all ‘Uncle’.  When there was a special ‘Uncle’ expected, Mum didn’t want to let on she had a kid so she shut me in the cellar.  It was pitch black and I was terrified at first.  Later though, I got used to it, at least no-one screamed or hit me down there.

         I was always hungry but it was easy to scavenge in our house.  There was always bits of pizza lying around and occasionally an ‘Uncle’ would send me to the chippy.

         ‘Don’t bother hurrying back.’  He’d add.  So now I reckon I know every nook and cranny of this shitty town. That’s come in handy now.

         At school, no-one wanted to sit next to me.   ‘He smells, Miss….’    I reckon they’d smell if their Mum didn’t bother to wash them or change their clothes.  But I always wanted a friend.  I hated break times when I had to hang around alone and look as if I didn’t care.   Then I noticed that all the kids were on about their latest ‘designer’ trainers so I thought if I  got some then maybe I’d fit in.  That’s how I first learned to steal.  I’d tag onto a family in a shoe-shop, follow them around, then when no-one was looking, I’d sneak some trainers and scarper.   The trainers didn’t always fit and anyway, they didn’t make any difference - I still had no friends.   Later, I graduated to nicking jeans and that’s when I got caught.  From then on it was Remand Home, Children’s Home and now the streets.  Story of my life.  

         It was about a month ago, I first noticed her. A little girl of around five, standing looking at me.  Normally, I hate kids. They pinch my money or kick my tin over. Others will cling onto their Mum’s arm and pretend to be frightened.  But this kid wasn’t like that and when I looked at her, I recognised the signs - fading bruises, stained, too-short dress and no coat.   She smiled, whispered ‘Hello’, then scuttled back to where her Mum was yakking on her mobile.  Sometimes she seemed to be completely on her own and she’d sit down beside me and we’d talk.  Not much, but enough to realise I’d found a friend.  She’d show me stones she’d found and I’d say they were pretty. Eventually, her Mum’d show up and yell at her.  It used to make me so sad to see the cowed way she’d slink back.

         One day she turned up with a fresh bruise on her face.  

         ‘What’s that?’  I said.

         ‘I was naughty,’ she whispered, and that was when I made up my mind.

It’s nearly dark and the first stars are out.  In the surrounding fields, pinpricks of light jitter in mad circles and above the sky is full of the machine gun rattle of helicopter blades.  They’re searching hard but  I grin, ‘cuz they’re way off course.   As I said, I know all the rat runs in this town and they’ll never guess where I’ve hidden her.  She’s mine now and I’ll never be lonely again.”

    Copyright Janet Baldey