By Scott Bailey 2017
You say center
We say centre
You say color
We say colour
We are different
Guess that means
You will build a wall against us
Ban us
Make war on us
One day
Difference
Scott’s Daily Prompt 06/01/2022
Today’s prompt is.
My favourite
What’s the most time you’ve ever spent apart from your favourite person? Tell us about it.
Dadda
By Scott Bailey © 2014
I think I have broken my toe
But I am just too tired to know
Stubbed it on a childproof gate
Too tired to see it until too late
But the pain and the weariness melt away
Into warmth when you hear them say
Dadda and they give you a smile
That gives you the strength for the next mile
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Scott’s Daily Prompt 05/01/2022
Today’s prompt is.
Call Me Ishmael
Take the first sentence from your favourite book and make it the first sentence of your post.
Quote Me
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Quote Me
A little explanation need for this one. The quote I always come back to is one from Frank Herbert’s Dune.
The only constant is change
I come back to this when times are tough, to remind me – nothing is forever. Even the hard times will end. But also to keep perspective – I always try and think – will I care about what I am worrying about in 10 years time. If not – it’s not worth the stress now! (I know that’s easier said than done.)
With that quote in mind here is a quick Haiku inspired by it.
Even the mountains Are impermanent giants The wise realise
Intentions
By Scott Bailey © 2015
“It was just a bit of fun”
To the broken hearts and home
“I meant no offence”
To the victims of riot and guns
“I was just following my dreams”
To the crushing weight of debt
“I will never do it again”
To the frightened wife and child
“I was trying to save some cash”
To the shattered future lost
“I thought I knew best”
To the chances that are gone
“My intentions were good”
To the consequences of action
Scott’s Daily Prompt 04/01/2022
Today’s prompt is.
Quote me
Do you have a favourite quote that you return to again and again? What is it, and why does it move you?
Kick It!
Let’s kick it into touch
Bucket lists!
Resolutions!
Traditions.
All they are really for
Is to transform you
Into the perfect consumer
Leeching away
All of you.
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Kick It
Moments
By Scott Bailey © 2015
The world clashes with me
Or I with it
Its movie reel passes before me
And I watch
Observe
But I am not of it
Occasionally
It brushes me
Pricks me
Interrupts my view
My observations
And the things I should enjoy
I don’t
Until I can observe them
Again one day
My moments pass
Slipping
I can never seem
To be in them
Scott’s Daily Prompt 03/01/2022
Today’s prompt is.
Kick it
What’s the 11th item on your bucket list?
Resolve
Resolutions
Made again
Broken again
Closure?
Endings?
Realise
Instead
Endings are beginnings
We should not
Resolve
But
Revolve
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Resolved
Arid
By Scott Bailey 2017
Arid
Are the hearts
and souls
Of our leaders
Deserts devoid of
Compassion
The seem to think
That
Their endless thirst
Can be assuaged
Quenched
By blood and gold
Our blood and gold
Scott’s Daily Prompt 02/01/2022
Today’s prompt is.
Resolved
Have you ever made a NewYear’s Resolution that you kept?
Stroke of Midnight
The brush of midnight
Sweeps darkness across the sky
Sprinkled with white stars
In response to Scott’s Daily Prompt, Stroke of Midnight
Devastation
By Scott Bailey 2017
![By Francisco Sanchis Cortés (Music at an exhibition) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/88/Walk%C3%BCrenritt_o_Ritt_der_Walk%C3%BCren_%28detail%29.jpg)
“This is it!” His voice rolled through the thunder clouds like a promise.
His minions had had their fun while he slept. Keeping the family business running so to speak.
That was over. The was The War. The Big One.
Those puny little tyrants and heroes would not know what hit them.
The God of War flexed his neck, rolled his head and shook the sleep from his long, flowing hair.
Lightning gleamed dully in his armour.
He looked to his left, to his right. Stretching out on either side were the flanks of his sisters. Mounted – their wings shining in the rain.
The God of War raised his hammer and with a mighty swoop bore it down on the earth.
Lighting smashed open the clouds and unleashed hell.
People were confused. Thrown off their kilter. They could not understand the petty battles, the conflict after conflict. No one seemed able to stop them. No one seemed to care.
The rich and powerful holed up with their gold. The poor were starved and eaten.
The God of War kept at it. Smiling with fury. This was his purpose, his being, his goal. His end.
So confused and fearful the people did not see, the chances they had slip away. The weapons they might use be consumed by war.
While the battles raged the earth burned. And burned and burned. The forests turned to ash and cities fell. The seas boiled away.
Beyond repair, this was the final battle.
After the long age of suffering the God of War surveyed the devastation with satisfaction. He had won. Nothing survived. The earth was too warm for life, nothing breathed.
He had won. And so now he burned with the earth. Raised his arms in fury and triumph in his final pyre.
With no players, there was no more war.
Peace descended. The earth would rest in it until the end.
In response to the daily prompt Devastation
#DailyPrompt
Scott’s Daily Prompt 01/01/2022
Today’s prompt is.
Stroke of Midnight
Where were you last night when 2021 turned into 2021? Is
that where you’d wanted to be?
New year, new challenge.
So last year I had a plan. To not post anything new on my website. I figured that by posting all my new work I was then eliminating that work from competitions etc.
So the plan was, keep the site going by reposting old stuff, while waiting new stuff in the background.
Well, that didn’t really work. I did the posting, but very little writing in the background. I did a few poems and a few short stories but nowhere near as much as I wanted.
So what to do?
I need a kick up the proverbial butt. So I have decided to try another daily post challenge. I did one years ago, a poem a day challenge. This time I will try and do a post a day for a year based on this document. I may diverge from the suggestions but they will be the spring board.
To address my concern about eliminating myself from markets I will actually do two. One I will publish the other I will keep private.
I will also make each prompt a post that people can link back to if they want to join in.
I will also still post old posts. Let’s see how it goes.
Sharp
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Silk slides on the breeze
Meets the flow of sharpened steel
Leaves a perfect tear
Oversight
Successful
By Scott Bailey 2017
Have you
Noticed
That the books
That teach us
How
To succeed at this
And
Win at that
Don’t teach us
Why
Meanwhile
Authors count their cash
Kissing the Flame
By Scott Bailey © 2017
The meteor dares
To kiss the flames of the sun
Then slingshots away
Exposure
By Scott Bailey 2017
Sleek steel aperture
Widens for a brief moment
Exposing a truth
Aesthetic
By Scott Bailey 2017
Thinking aesthetics
Is vaguely anaesthetic
Trying hard to write
Marathon
By Scott Bailey 2017
Life is a marathon
They say
I disagree
A marathon is a race
Has a goal
They whip us with that line
Life is a marathon
Life is a song
Every
Note
To be
Savoured
Listen
Or sing
Or play
For
Life is a song
Unseen
By Scott Bailey 2017
Unseen, unheard, forgotten
We
The people
Scorned
Belittled
Bled
We see, we hear, nothing is forgotten
We
The people
Have dignity
Might
And reserves
Capable
By Scott Bailey 2017
I’m not capable
Of writing a good poem
Tonight. Worn right out
Someday
By Scott Bailey 2017
Someday, one day, soon
After that important thing
That I need to do
The Little Monkey
By Scott Bailey 2017
Little monkey clings
Tightly to his mother’s back
Ancient lizard flies
Uneven
By Scott Bailey 2017
Life in unbalanced
Uneven
Unfair?
Karma is bunkum
Days, weeks, years of effort
For each small gain
Each small good
None reached with ease
While all around
The bad rains down
Good luck seems rare
Bad luck the normal
The scales uneven
It seems
Coasting
By Scott Bailey © 2017
This car is coasting
Familiar road ahead
Time to go off-road
The Forest of Dreams
By Scott Bailey 2015
Dark, thick between the trees
No light shines off
The dull black armour
Of the horseman as he rides
Slow through the forest of dreams.
Pale the winding path
The black knight follows
His weary steed plods steadfast
As its burden heavy grows
Head hung low
This quest was not the glory
He dreamed of in his youth
Like the birds that flew this morning
On dreams that seemed to be
A promise of life and growth
He followed the flighty birds
As they danced upon his dreams
Into this tree locked realm
And the winding path so thin
They drew him deeper in
And the vines of need reached out
With curled dependency
Wrapped around his limbs, his heart
Sinking deep their thorns
The pain shook him from his dreams
To the vines, he must cling
To keep his dreams at bay
Though they drag him deeper down
And hamper his faltering way
They are a part of him
He no longer sees the birds
Riding on his dreams
Now he knows the awful truth
That only dragons truly fly
The dragons he should slay
He could unsheath his sword
These vines to cut
Roar fire and leap to the sky
Instead, he forges onward
To endure until he dies
Twines
By Scott Bailey © 2013
Silver twines
intricate wires
thin and delicate
stretching from misty past
to infinite future
Each one a story
a thread of life
Twisting they come together
Winding, entwining
Further down the road
The twines form a rope
Stronger
Older
Wiser
Thicker
Stiffer
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Gravity
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Gravity
When specific
Has strange effects
Things get wibbly-wobbly
Certain lines
Get bent
Other lines
Get crossed
So watch
The specific gravity
Floating
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Layers of smoke float
Blue in the heavy darkness
While lazy jazz plays
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Gone
By Scott Bailey © 2017
Gone
The blue eyes sparked with new
Gone to shadows
Gone
The play, the cowboys and indians
Gone to payments and tax
Gone
The times to stop and breathe
Gone to endless turmoil
Gone, gone gone
A little magic
A little luck
Is needed
Interior
By Scott Bailey © 2017
What’s inside
Distorts and shapes
The exterior
All those dreams and hopes
Hates and fears
That make up the interior
The moiling
Boiling
Packed and stacked
Stretched and tense
Earnest pretence
That inside us all
Makes us all
What we are
Rather than what
We wish
Space
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Feel the space around
Everywhere that I can see
Breathe, release and live
Discover
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Discovered knowledge
Treasured sweeter than any
Teacher could serve up
Enthusiasm
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Dead enthusiasm
Passion for mundane labours
Seems to be required
Another Anthem
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Ring the bells of life
Every heartbeat tolling on
So jingle them well
Relax
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Relax
It’s just the end of the world
Relax
As the wall tumbles down
Relax they say
It will all work out
In the end
If you down in the dumps
Smile
It’s the positive attitude
That wins the day
Which is just another way
To say
It’s your fault
Relax
It’s just the end of the world
Relax
As the wall tumble down
Relax they say
It will all work out
In the end
Tell that to the man
Asleep in the door
Tell that to the maiden
Dead on the shore
Tell it to the lonely
Tell it to the lost
To the OAP bitten by frost
Relax
It is the end
Moody
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Brooding skies
For moody times
Thunderous justice
For shady lies
A storm is coming
Be prepared
For the arising
Of the weak and the scared
Fishing
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Kingfisher fishing
Silver treasure in the dark
Ice seals the lake shut
Maddening
By Scott Bailey © 2016
It’s a maddening
Saddening state of affairs
That everyone knows
The rulers don’t care
And nobody does a fucking thing
And the includes
Me
The shadows around us
A deep as the night
Masquerade as stars
Shining vile light
Showing the way
To the promised land
Lead by the hand
There it awaits us
The cage of our choice
Fully charged senses
Completely blocked voice
Thus is the fate
Of all but a few
All of us damn lazy
Fools
Folly
By Scott Bailey © 2016
She stared at the artefact. It reminded her of a flower. Well, reminded was the wrong word. She had never seen a flower – there were no more left. They had died out long before she had arrived.
Everything had.
But in the last few months, her colleagues had managed to decipher and read the ancient data they had found here and there. They had pieced together a rough history of this dead place. Not much but enough – enough to know what happened.
Enough to know it could happen to them.
Enough to know what a flower looked like.
Before they had died – somebody had carved a final message on this artefact.
‘Man’s final folly!”
She wondered at that. She could not fathom its reasoning.
It was beyond doubt now that this giant metal flower had been the instrument that had called out to them so long ago. Sent its message to the stars.
And they had heard. 20,000 long years ago she and her colleagues had boarded their ship and started on their way.
In all probability, the flower was still broadcasting then. The carver of that message was still breathing good air.
No more.
There was no more good air. There was nothing left to breathe it.
What puzzled her more was the fact that the remaining histories made it plain that it was foreseeable. Preventable even.
Yet she could also see that their own masters back home could easily make the same mistake. As advanced as they were the path was familiar.
So it was that she and her fellow robotic explorers had taken the decision to delay their trip home. It would take them 20,000 more years to get back with the warning.
This – folly – could send the message quicker. So here they were trying to repair it get it working again.
A desperate battle to avoid the fate of these long-dead people who called themselves human beings.
Conundrum
By Scott Bailey © 2016
The humdrum conundrum
Of life rumbles on
The pounding of
A thousand thoughts
The tension
Between the chains
Of convention
And the delicious
Whips of vice
Dreaming ends
Life rumbles on
On on
The beat of the master’s drum
Bespoke
By Scott Bailey © 2016
Are we lucky?
A comfortable generation?
Or is it just
That our chains fit us perfectly?
Flee
By Scott Bailey © 2016
The cold swallows flee
Riding currents to the south
Rivers take their time
Flight
By Scott Bailey © 2018
Swallows fly freely
Soaring high in summer skies
Earthbound fox watches
Mystical
By Scott Bailey © 2016
The mystical chord is missing
Congregation of the hearts
Cohesion of resistance
The friction that throws up sparks
Dragons stir on dripping hoards
Squeeze the bloody stones
Build their beds on broken bones
Their hunger ever fed
Lore is twisted into chains
Choking all who dream
Mystic songs have drained away
Silence reigns
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 