Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Farewell

By Scott Bailey © 2006

I sit upon my bed alone.
Thinking thoughts of you.
My heart sinks slowly like a stone.
In a pool so blue.

The pain grows greater every day.
Need I make that cut?
Alas, it is the only way.
All other doors are shut.

So take the knife and cut me deep.
I know it must done.
Though this pain will make me weep.
Relief will soon be won.

So now at last I say goodbye.
I need you now no more.
You must believe me, I did try.
My efforts though, were poor.

We could no longer stay as one.
So you were cut away.
It was the only thing to be done.
To take the pain away.

Farewell, my dear appendix.

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, General, Poetry, Writing

A Deep Green Canopy

By Scott Bailey © 2015

A deep green canopy
Back-dropped by a swathe of gold
Corn
Swaying in the wind
An overwhelming urge
To dive into that green sea
The climb and swing
And scream
With primal joy
But there is a mountain of time
Between me and that green
Eden
Made of commitments and constraints
Burdens and dependencies
So it dwindles
In my rear window
A deep green canopy
In mist

Image from Pixabay
Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Following a Hearse

By Scott Bailey © 2015

The traffic slowed
We were all following a hearse
Today
In respectful frustration
I took the time
To look around
At the rivers and fields
That normally
Speed by
We are all following a hearse

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

My dark dystopian vision is starting to look like a brighter alternative!

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

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Feather Crown

By Scott Bailey © 2006

Shake!
Awake!
Shake!
Awake!
The sun.
Is up!
Rise up!
Rise up!
Open eyes!
Beneath
Blue skies.
Cast off
Sleep’s reins.
See!
The plains.
No sleep!
Breath deep!
Sun warms.
No storms.
Stretch arms.
Take arms.
Run!
In the sun!
Take bow!
Go!
Take spear!
Disappear!
When
Wind blows.
Lift nose.
And scent
why they sent
for you.
They come!
They run!
See!
The birds.
Speak.
No words.
Watch
them lead.
They
will feed.
Feel
the land.
Trust
your hand.
See
grass sway.
They come
this way.
Feel
the ground.
Hear
the sound.
Thunderous sound.
All around.
A mound
of meat.
Trust
your feet.
Spear
and bow.
Blood
will flow.
With
one voice.
We
rejoice!
And the buffalo pass,
to greener grass.

Posted in Creative Writing, General, Poetry, Writing

Goodbye

By Scott Bailey © 2006

It’s not fair.
He started it, I didn't.
He called me names.
I had to do it to stop him.
How come I get told off?
It’s not fair.

It’s a shameful waste.
What they do to our world today.
The forests they cut down, the whales they kill.
The fields they destroy, the new roads they build.
The way they leave their scars on the world.
It’s a shameful waste.

It’s a bloody liberty.
I will not stand for it!
I earned my money fairly.
I will spend it pleasantly.
I will not stand being ripped off!
It’s a bloody liberty.

It’s a downright disgrace.
The way these youngsters behave.
They will not heed my words.
They will not do as they are told.
I will leave my mark on the world.
It’s a downright disgrace.

He needs no name on his grave.
He was a model man.
He stood for what we all stand for.
He spoke the words we all speak.
He was me and you and all those to come.
He needs no name on his grave.
Photo by Jordan Benton on Pexels.com
Posted in Creative Writing, Haiku, Poetry, Writing

Dare

By Scott Bailey © 2016

I don’t dare to dream
Reality is too harsh
To just brush aside

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com
Posted in Creative Writing, Fiction, Self Publishing, Short Stories, Thirteen Tales, Writing

Winter is coming and the ghosts

As the nights draw in, settle down in front of the fire, get comfy and enjoy some spooky tales!

13talescoverc

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.

A paperback version os being worked on 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……

Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Tithe

By Scott Bailey © 2015

This is my tithe
The part of my life
That I give to my lord
To survive

My uses are his
My flesh and my blood
So I am here
On this field

Shoulder to shoulder
With my fellow men
Shields edge to edge
Spears raised

For the right to go on
Feed my wife and my son
To stave hunger away
One more year

Death faces us down
With it’s bloodstained gown
As the line ahead draws
Ever closer

The enemy jeers
Clashing their spears
Moving their wall
Close to ours

And I see in their eyes
They are bound by their tithes
To kill for their lord
Just like me

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Conquered

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Shining silver line
Whirling axes high on the hill
The pride and strength
Of the Saxon’s lands

They had hammered back the sea
Eaten up the road
Crossed the kingdom wide
With deeds of valour bold

Unbeaten and unbowed
How could they know
This would be the day
The kingdom was brought low

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Little Stone Church

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Little stone church
Nestled on a hill
Overlooking the sea
Watching over the harbour still

The boats nestled cheek to cheek
And those tossed on the waves
The bell rings out a guiding peal
Above the moss stained graves

And every sailor on the deck
Mouths a silent prayer
The church windows watch their pleas
With a cold and empty stare

The settlement around the church
Huddles to the old stone walls
Strong but cold strange comfort their
As the tolling calls

Older still the hill
Watches the fleeting boats
The flighty homes and towers
Their occupants dust motes

More enduring still
The constant shifting waves
Will eat the hill, huts the boats
Even the very graves

Photo by Scott Bailey

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Little Corner

By Scott Bailey © 2015

A little corner

A little corner

That is my world

Shrunk in space

My only place

A desk, a keyboard,

a screen

A little corner

Of a room

A little corner

of time

Stolen time

from life’s demands

Time to dream

The keys on the keyboard

are keys

Out of this corner

this cage

Into a wider

free form world

and free dreams

Through the portal

of my mind

The little corner

has no end

It opens up

and expands

forever without end

Image from Pexels
Posted in Daily Prompt, Haiku, Poetry, Writing

On the Edge

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Stand tall on the board
A breeze teases the skin; dive
Slapped by water cold

Photo by Oliver Sju00f6stru00f6m on Pexels.com
Posted in Creative Writing, Haiku, Poetry, Writing

Iris

By Scott Bailey

The dark wide iris
Sparkling bright now, mists over
As it watches time

Image from Pexels
Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

The Tree of the Dead

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Stark black against cold grey skies
Black lightning frozen in time
Towering and immense
Spread over the world
The tree of the dead
On the termination of every branch
Every twig
Hang the skulls
Uncountable, unimaginable
They observe
From their cold black sockets
With their chilling grins
They watch
And judge
The tableau
Of life

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, General, Poetry, Writing

Seas

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Ideas
Dreams
Decisions
Goals
All swept away
In the rolling seas
Of other’s
Perceived
Realities

Posted in 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

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Haiku, Poetry, Writing

Hole

By Scott Bailey © 2015

A hole in the ground
Still black water reflecting
Meteors above

Image from Pixabay
Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

The Universe

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Special, general
Einstein’s relativity
Beauty and balance

Image from Pixabay

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Hunter

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Amber brown bristles
Fletched true
Sighted
On the smooth straight shaft
Knocked
Creak of wood
And leather
Tense flesh
Strength of arm
Years
Of hard work
Hard life
Peaked
In tense flesh
Aimed

Deep russet red
Undulating tight
Over perfect form
Moving with surety
Strength and grace
Slender neck
Proud eyes
High points
Antlers spectacular

Slow high-speed
Flight
True
Through high trunks
Ancient towers
Sturdy and rough
Flicking leaves
Pungent smell
Of spilt sap
Over lazy ferns

Struck
Sunk deep
In perfect flesh
Deep russet red
Covered in bright
Fresh crimson
Hunter
Has hunted

Dusk
Deep red sky
Flecked with sparks
Orange
Embers fly
On aroma
Of roasted flesh
Venison
Consumed
Hunter sated
For now

Started awake
Cold
Stone and straw
Shit and piss
And chains
A dream
Of a memory
Despite all
A happy dream
Amidst horror
And darkness

Weakness
Flesh wasted
In forgotten depths
Waiting
For nothing
Time drips
Away
Into nothing
Sodden straw

Stronger arms
Clad in chain
Dragged from darkness
Down cold
Stone corridors
Into light
Hammering eyes
Screams and shouts
Hammering ears

Then rope
And wood
Strong scent
Of wet rope
Rough against
Weak neck
And wood
Creaking underfoot
Screams and jeers
A clunk
Freedom from weight
From the wait
Exhilaration
Then……

Image from Pixabay