Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Goodbye Daily Prompt!

UPDATE –  I have now started my own! It can be found here

I only found out about this today!

After all this time the Daily Post is sounding the Last Post and bidding us farewell.

Damn!

I need it! I will miss it! I need a push every day – I may not use it – may not do it every day – but it helps. A lot!

Retrospective? Well, all I will say is that there was a tie, a few years ago I came to the realisation that I had neglected my passion. I stopped writing. Once I realised I tried to start again. It was difficult. Very hard to gain momentum. That is where the Daily Post came to my rescue. It gave me the inspiration I needed.

Now it won’t be there.

I suspect I am not the only one sorry to see it go.

So I may start my own. I might just put up a prompt each day. Can’t provide the fancy screen that shows all the entries – if anyone else does use it but I will give it a go.

In the meantime – here’s a suitable poem.

Old-light-from-the-past

Lantern

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Old light from the past
Is still illumination
Wisdom echoes far

 

In response to the daily prompt Retrospective

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Blunt Hammer

By Scott Bailey © 2013

When horror is turned to love
And death has become high romance
Do the forces of the underworld
Practice a jubilant dance

Do vampires laugh with glee
And werewolves lick their fangs
As they open up their gates
With fanfares, bells and clangs

And into their arms they run
The poorly misguided youth
And their heroes welcome them in
With claw and jaw and tooth

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Broken Teeth

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Like broken teeth
Unmaintained
No longer useful
Yet
Somehow
Pleasing to the eye
Leading us
To who knows where

Photo By Scott Bailey
Photo By Scott Bailey

In response to the daily prompt Broken

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Broken Shell

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Broken shell
Evidence of new life or life cut short
A new hungry mouth
Or a hunters hunger sated
Either way
Life is given
Evidence found
In our humble garden

Photo by Scott Bailey

In response to the daily prompt Broken

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Broken Eggs

By Scott Bailey © 2017

A new clutch of chicks
Awaken to a cold dawn
The fox scents a chance

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Broken

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fiction, Self Publishing, Short Stories, Thirteen Tales, Writing

What’s that Noise?

Behind the door?

Was it something moving?

Someone?

Just ignore it. Dive back under the covers, carry on reading…

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

By Scott Bailey

A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.

Ideal for sitting around a campfire and late at night under the covers. Or maybe not if the stories themselves are any guide.

Check it out on Amazon and Smashwords and other online e-book retailers.

paperback version is now available for those who prefer the feel of the paper while huddling by the fire – on your own – in the dark – with that noise behind you……

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Night Forest

By Scott Bailey © 2013

A silver sylph slips silent through the trees
Spreading silver stardust upon the trees
Disappearing into the deep shadows
Where foxes hunt

Image from Pixabay

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Life and Death

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Potential new life
Excitement when waters break
New life brings us cheer

Six forever hours
Caressing a fading pulse
All cheer drains away

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Juxtapose

 

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

The Dark

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The darkness where the heart beats fast
The shadows where no moonlight’s cast
The deepest dell of starless nights
Gleaming eyes the only light

The sound of cold and ancient breath
On the breeze the scent of death
A rustle from behind the trees
A snapping twig the blood to freeze

The conflict of the fight​ or flight
But where to run on icy night?
The frozen legs the burning fear
The certainty of danger near

Imagination births these fears
But even as the presence nears
Pointing out what we must mark
Why do we so fear the dark

Image from Pixabay

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Freedom

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Swallows fly freely
Soaring high in summer skies
Earthbound fox watches

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #203 Home&Free

Image from Pixabay

 

#amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Ceremony

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Change
Ushered in with ceremony
To hide
The cracks and flaws
Assuage the fears
Distract attention
From the directors
In response to the daily prompt Ceremony

 

Image from Pixabay

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Cable Ties

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Cables ties us
Hold us tight
To one spot
Even invisible ones
Chains
Keeping us busy
Keeping us attentive
Keeping us productive
and consuming
So when they are cut
We are lost
Unable to produce
As we once did

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Short Stories, Writing

Heirloom – #writephoto

For Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo prompt

Another bit of fiction – another continuation of previous entries that I have decided to collate in one place – here.

Here Sue’s photo for this week.

 


Heirloom

By Scott Bailey © 2018

 

She had run from the stately home – from ghosts and strange blind men – both alive and dead.

But not far. She had very quickly got hold of herself. Now she sat outside a provincial coffee shop sipping the best she’d tasted for some time.

As she drunk she stared at the place in the distance. Turrets rising from the darkness like the beginning of some gothic horror movie.

Only now she knew the ghosts were real.

How she knew that she was not sure. It went against everything she had ever believed, against the grain of her fundamental seeking for truths.

But she did not doubt what she had seen.

So, that is how he found her, sipping coffee, staring at his home.

Vaguely, she wondered at that. Had she stumbled straight into his favourite place? Had he had her followed? Again, she noted that he seemed to need no guide. He must be familiar with this place as well.

He sat across the table from her and waited.

“Who are they,” she asked eventually.

He smiled wryly and lifted one shoulder and a strange shrug.

“That is the question. One there has been no answer to. All I can tell you is that through all the stories, down through the years – beyond history – they are there – along with the sword. With Northblood.”

“Stories? Do you have them all?”

“All, that are known of,” he replied. “There are gaps in time, and as I said, they go beyond written history.”

Again, for no apparent reason, she believed him.

“Will you tell me them?”

“I will,” he nodded. He signalled to a waiter and ordered himself a coffee. Then he resumed.

“But if you are seeking truths, stories will not suffice. You must take more, you must take responsibility.”

She cocked her head at that.

“What do you mean?”

“It is time Northblood was held by new hands.”

“You want me to have the sword?”

He nodded, then added more quietly.

“But there is a cost.”


#writephoto

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Carman

By Scott Bailey © 2013

I make cars
I always have
As did my father.

Prestige cars.
The most famous in the world
Made with pride.

Made with precision.
Made to last.
To shine and glide!

Every working day.
All the working hours.
My trusty hands create.

I may be steeped in habit
Tradition and old ways
But I trust in my own fate.

I support my family.
I support the plant.
And I support the land.

I pay my way my dues
while on my shoulders weighs
the burden that I support.

After all these years of toil
All my many dues.
Imagine my surprise, my boss.
I have given more than you!

In response to the daily prompt Famous

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Formation

By Scott Bailey © 2013

A single mote
of stardust
sparkles bright
in endless black
drifting
No goal,
no direction
for time
that feels
eternity
Nothing
Cold, cold
Nothing

And then
Attracted to another
Bright shining mote
Joined together
Bound in twisting dance
round and round
and down
What seems forever
togetherness
never apart
again

The other comes
with more attachments
gathering around
A family, a clan
a get together that has no end
a bouncy, rowdy party
as things heat up

And the happening attracts more
and the numbers swell
the dances speed and the steps
multiply with complexity
The place is hotting up
as events coalesce

Then the point of no return
This is the place to be
the single mote has pulled
more that could be dreamed
and the crowds rush in and in
and down
the crowds become a crush
And the heat gives rise to new forms of dance
and new energy as the crowds arise

And then the circle is complete
as the fire starts to burn and the lonely mote
is now the heart
of brand new burning star

Image from Pixabay

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fiction, Short Stories, Thirteen Tales, Writing

Fear

We have a love/hate relationship with it.

We do not want to be afraid. We want safety and comfort.

Or do we?

Underneath, secretly we crave it. The thrill of fear, the arousal of danger.

So turn off the lights. Open the pages and delve in.

Find the thrill in the words.

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

 

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Running

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Running
So fast we run
Stay ahead of the game
This is the story we are sold
Suckers

Justyn Warner

In response to COLLEEN’S WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 85, HURRY & LAST, #SYNONYMSONLY

Late again for this – a cinquain – of sorts – this week.

#cinquain

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Consumed

By Scott Bailey © 2013

More fucking shopping
I’m consumed by consuming
Working just keeps up

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fantasy Fiction, Fiction, Mankind Limited News, Poetry, Science Fiction, Self Publishing, Short Stories, Writing

Dip Into Something New

Slip away for a few hours, into other worlds – away from all the troubles of this one.

 

Perhaps into the future – a near future – dark and disturbing and yet – so close. There follow the fates of four people worn down and broken – or angry with the system. Who break out of it and try to break it. Who question why they did and falter in their resolve only to be thrown back into the fray to discover the truth within themselves. A tale that questions rebellion and its motivations while railing at the oppression around us. Try it.

Mankind Limited

 

Or if not the future – the other worlds – supernatural ones – that impinge onto ours from – where? Some other dimension? The afterlife? Our own minds?

Where ever they come from – try these Thirteen Tales of the Ghostly variety.

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

 

Or forget them all and take a moment each day  – to read a little poetry and think. Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.

A Spring of Dreams

 

 

 

Creative Writing, Haiku, photography, Poetry, Writing

Snake

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Monster
Caught in lead and steel
Frozen
In time

Human
Caught in the machine
Enslaved
Forever

Somewhere
An artist smirks
And settles
To eternal sleep

Photo by Scott Bailey

 

In response to this weeks Photo Challenge Twisted

This was a sculpture spotted during a day trip to Hastings many years ago.

 

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Old Silver

By Scott Bailey © 2014

The purr of the projector
Warm popcorn scent
Dust motes dancing in the light
Deep, dusty heavy red drapes
Mumbles and fumbles in the shadows
Hand brushing hand by chance
Close, sweet breath and perfume
The excitement of the old silver screen

Samuel Zeller

In response to the daily prompt Archaic

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Health Gains

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Giving people health
Appears low priority
Set against profits

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Cold Cold News

By Scott Bailey © 2016

The news chills today
The child killers found guilty
Will justice suffice?

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Guilty

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Jealousy

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Jealousy
A deadly sin
So we are taught
Over and over
Again
And when
We dare to question
The questionable ways
Of wealth and power
The smirk and hint
Jealousy
And the lessons rise
Prodding our conscience
Silencing our voices
With guilty pillows
Thus
Why we are taught
What we are taught
Is plain to see

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Guilty

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Wallowing

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Corrupt. Wealthy. Safe.
Wallowing in filthy loot
And laughing at us

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Haiku, Poem a Day Challenge, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

A Spring of Dreams – Trench

recite-2dr0uy

Trench

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Dancing with my wife,
last week the telegraph came:
Coughs ring round the trench.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

Check out my author website for more details

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Assumption

By Scott Bailey © 2018

The assumption
Is consumption
Is needed
The beast needs feeding
So we can all be fed
Let’s
Eat the beast
Instead

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Assumption

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

photography, Wordless-Wednesday

Under – Wordless-Wednesday

Photo by Scott Bailey

#wordless-Wednesday

Creative Writing, Fiction, General, Mankind Limited News, Science Fiction, Self Publishing, Writing

Mankind Limited – Succumb

quotescover-PNG-66

Would all the earth succumb to the concrete blanket of mankind? Was that the best legacy they could leave? Was their vision that limited?

One day there would come a time when it would be more profitable to tear these trees down than to leave them. Then there would be no power on earth that would save them. Even concerned consumers couldn’t stand in the way of profits anymore.

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Read an excerpt here.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

 

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Prevailing

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Lost to us, never forgotten
Unusual tides took him away
Carried to peace and to sleep
And even as the dark will swell
Sad, but sad will not prevail

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Photo by Scott Bailey
Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

The Deep Cold

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Disappearing into the gloom
Undulating side to side
Alien but of this earth
Slow, cold life
In the deep deep dark
So far from the hearth we know
The strange eel like creature
Eases in the deepest cold
Leaving divers dumb

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Disappear

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Giants

By Scott Bailey © 2014

I have seen giants
Striding over the land
Power on their shoulders
Stern and strong their hand

Never do they falter
Never seen one stumble or fall
Always do their duty
Always answer the call

Through storm and wind and rain
The carry their burden true
Though other links may burn out
The giants stride on through

So remember this and tremble
Even the giants will pass
Fall into dust and rusty ruin
Scattered in untamed grass

One day their burden will dissipate
Their purpose will disappear
And the duty they discharged so well
A memory dimmed with time

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Disappear

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Night Forest

By Scott Bailey © 2013

A silver sylph slips silent through the trees
Spreading silver stardust upon the trees
Disappearing into the deep shadows
Where foxes hunt

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Disappear

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Rising Tide

By Scott Bailey © 2013

From the shallows to the icy deep
Where dolphins dance and starfish sleep
Through swaying kale and shifting sand
Feel the touch of an oily hand

Where lights speed by in total dark
Where rest many a sunken ark
Where through the kale fish do slip
Feel a cold and choking grip

Where bubbles rise and currents surge
Where waters from the heavens merge
Where weight does crush both bones and rock
Feel the iron fingers lock

And here my heart it swells and roars
From roiling dark to shattered shores
And I will rise with fury’s might
And crush the hand that picks this fight

So fear the shark with jaws that rend
And the mighty swell that shall bend
Every fence and dam and wall
And drown the rumble of cliffs that fall

And when the hand has done its deed
You will curse your dirty seed
And then, at last, ​you will see
How small you are beside the sea

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fiction, Self Publishing, Short Stories, Thirteen Tales, Writing

Shipwreck – Thirteen Tales

Shipwreck

Explorers – or pillagers? The line is thin on the high seas, in strange exotic lands. Those that operate without fear of consequence soon learn their folly. There are older powers in the world than gunpowder and steel.

Featured Image -- 7657

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

By Scott Bailey

A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.

Ideal for sitting around a campfire and late at night under the covers. Or maybe not if the stories themselves are any guide.

Check it out at Amazon and Smashwords and other online e-book retailers.

A paperback version is now available for those who prefer the feel of the paper while huddling by the fire – on your own – in the dark – with that noise behind you……

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Short Stories, Writing

The Avenue- #writephoto

For Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo prompt

Another bit of fiction – another continuation of previous entries that I have decided to collate in one place – here.

Here Sue’s photo for this week.

 


The Avenue

By Scott Bailey © 2018

 

This was the second time Ilaria had walked down this Avenue of trees today. Earlier it had been bright sunshine and lush green grass. Now it was grey and blue in the moonlight.

Then, he had walked with her. The Count. She had learned he was a Count almost immediately. It had amused her mildly. She had followed all the clues and they had led her to a castle where a Count lived.

It has all the makings of a horror movie. Or maybe a quaint period romance.

She had no taste for either. She rarely read fiction. She preferred a good textbook, preferably history.

Somehow he had known that.

She had badgered him with questions which he deftly danced all around and avoided with politeness. As she talked, he walked. Moving at a leisurely pace. She noticed that despite his age – she guessed around mid-fifties he seemed quite fit. Moved with a strong, feline confidence.

She barely noticed that they left the darkness of his personal museum and found themselves strolling in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees.

When she did she also realised that, despite his blindness, he had not faltered once. He had been sure-footed and need no guide.

She stopped. Taking in the implications.

“You have lived here all your life?” It was the only explanation, he must know the place intimately.

“As have my family for several generations.” he smiled, amused at her question.

“A French Count.” she mused.

“An English title, my family moved here many years in the past, the title came with them and stayed.”

“And you? You have stayed here, never left?”

“Oh, I have travelled in my time, all over the world.” There was sadness in his voice now. Maybe he had not always been blind? Did he mourn the loss of all the sites he had seen?

She pushed on with her quest for answers though.

“Is that where you collected all those weapons?”

“No, that was not me. That was father’s passion. I don’t really care for the collection – it holds no interest to me.”

“Except for that sword.” There could be no denying his interest in that sword. It had pride of place n his house.
He smiled wryly, as is admiring her insight. He nodded.

“Yes, except that sword.”

“Was that one of your father’s acquisitions?”

“It was. One of his last.” he began walking again, drawing her down the avenue.

“He never knew what he had, he dies shortly after bringing home.”

“But you do?” she said. “You know what is special about it. What is it? And what are those figures?”

He stopped again, turned and faced her. He sighed and appeared to be considering his answer. Finally, he spoke again.

“I know your type. You are obsessed with facts – with explanations, not mystery.”

She bristled at this description of herself, to the way he had pigeonholed her, she wanted to dispute it, but she didn’t know what to say. She realised that he had hit the mark.

He went on.

“You want answers, explanations. I am not sure I can give you that. What I can tell you, you would not believe.”

“Try me,” she said. Something about all this had hooked her. She needed the answers in a way she had never felt before. Her calm assessment of everything that had gone before in her life seemed to have been washed away by this sudden, irrational obsession. Though it frightened her – she found she could not turn back any more.

So her heart lurched when he answered.

“No.”

She began to protest but he held up his hand.

“I cannot tell you in any way you would accept. Therefore, I must show you. Meet me here again, this exact spot at midnight.”

She almost snorted, almost derided all this theatrical nonsense. Almost walked away from it all.

But he did not give her the chance. He whirled around and stalked away from her, leaving her open-mouthed.

So she found herself back beneath the trees in the cool night, wondering if she were starting to go mad.

“Are you ready to open your eyes?”

She jumped in fright. The count had come up beside her in silence.

The air felt chill now. Yet, somehow, in spite of the situation, she did not feel any threat from him.

“What are we waiting for?” she asked, trying to keep the scepticism from her voice.

He pointed his cane down the avenue.

Where two faint white figures approached. They were misty and translucent and seemed to be sunk in the ground up to their waists.

She stepped back several paces in fear. What the hell! They looked for all the world like ghosts approaching them.

The air felt colder still.

This could not be! She whirled around looking up in the trees for the light of a projector.

“This is no illusion!” said the Count. “Take all the time you need to confirm that after, but for now – attend closely.” He nodded in the direction of the approaching figures.

She could see them more clearly now. They were indeed sunk up to their waists into the earth. But they seemed not to notice. They ran as if it were not there.

They were figures from the most ancient of times. Almost naked, wearing simple animal hides. Their hair wild. They both carried spears, wooden with flint heads.

They passed her. The nearest was a young woman, barely an adult. The other was an older, man. He looked strong but worn by time. Somehow, despite the fact that he was not eyeless, she could tell that he, like the Count, was blind.


#writephoto

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Awkward

By Scott Bailey © 2018

The awkward stance
Where does it stem from
A lifetime of toil?
Injury?
Or the weight
Of the world?

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Awkward

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Fragility

By Scott Bailey © 2018

I watched his heartbeat
Fragile and fading too fast
Stops everyday

Image from Pixabay

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #202 Fragile&Heartbeat

And in Memory of Lucas Henry Bailey

#amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Short and Sweet

A Spring of Dreams

Some poems
Short and sweet
Unlike me

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Fragile

By Scott Bailey © 2013

So many connections
So many lines
All taut and humming
Junctions and switches
A house of cards
Delicately balanced
Systems
Working to full capacity
One break from collapse
Such is life

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Butterfly

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Sod the camouflage
Be resplendent in the sun
Flutter high and shine

Photo by Scott Bailey

In response to the daily prompt Narcissism

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fiction, Mankind Limited News, Politics, Science Fiction, Self Publishing, Writing

Read It! Don’t let it come to pass!

Humanity reduced to a bottom line.


Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.

Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.

Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.

One one level this is a story about how different people react the ever growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.

At another level it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.

Read an excerpt here.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

Now also available at Smashwords, IBooks, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and many other outlets.

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Sold

By Scott Bailey © 2013

We can make you a better parent
Just come and bank with us
We can make you a better lover
Just use our scent
We can make you more successful
Just drive our cars
We can make you a better man
Just drink our beers
We can make you young and cool
Just use our phones
We can make you healthier
Just eat our food

Give us your money
So we can fill the gaps
Of your so obviously
Empty lives

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Aubade Two

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Dawn sneaks over the hills
Light spills through the vales
And the veils of the window

I see beauty at last
Complicated, unfathomable, mystery
But right and true

Most the world walks by
Seeing a different way
This morning gives me hope

But the light washes out
Shadows darken veils
Traditions bear down

The beauty and the mystery
The reason and the truth
Are left behind again

The door is closed again
As ancient lore and law
Return us to the night

Image from Pixabay

In response to the daily prompt Complication

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poem a Day Challenge, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Words

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Wherever words roam
Over fantastical lands
The heart rests at home.

A_Spring_of_Dreams_Cover_for_Kindle

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Sensitive

By Scott Bailey © 2013

My eyes are sensitive to the light
They are filtered
Protected by shades
What about my heart?
My feelings?

No filter please
I am sensitive
I need all the light let in.

 

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

Not Enough

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Here are my words
Not enough
To unburden
My crushed soul
Or move a mountain
Of stress

#amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Present Ideas

If you are stuck for ideas – here are a few. They are original and different – plus being ebooks they have the advantage of not being hindered by delivery issues 🙂


Mankind Limited

Mankind Limited

Marc trudged on with life, marching in line with his fellow workers. Weighed down by the everyday burdens of life, the pressure to conform, to succeed or face destitution.

Yet he knew, in his heart that it was all wrong, the questions squirmed like fiery dragons in the pit of his heart, beneath his deepest darkest doubts.

Until they grew and burst his sanity, set him on a path of defiance and rebellion. A path that would cross three others – all like him seeking answers.

A path of danger and adventure that would see him marked as a terrorist and fleeing for his life. It would see him find love and heartbreak, hope and despair, Most of all, it would open his eye to the possibility of an ancient and powerful secret that might answer all his doubts and fears.

If he survived.

Buy Now


Thirteen Tales

As the title says – thirteen tales about ghosts. Yet, while ghosts feature in them all – not all are traditional ghost stories.

You will find the vengeful spirit but also the plaintiff one. The haunting message from the past and the playful spirits capturing the joy of their past lives.

Some of these visitors from beyond lead the haunted to peace and joy – others take them on much darker paths to places with no return.

Enjoy them – just don’t get too comfortable.

Buy Now


A Spring of Dreams

Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes, sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.

If nothing else – these can provide a small moment in everyone’s stressful lives to stop and contemplate the world in a different way.

Buy Now


www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Hatchets

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Porcelain tiles
Cold on my cheek
How did I get here?
When did I fall asleep?

The hatchet in my head
Overpowers the hatchet in my heart
For now
And then it begins again

Golden liquid calls

 

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk