By Scott Bailey © 2013
Turn upon turn upon turn upon turn
Green upon green upon green upon green
Tracks and tracks and shining silver
Decision-making machine
Can it take the pressures
Of expectations on board
Will I

Turn upon turn upon turn upon turn
Green upon green upon green upon green
Tracks and tracks and shining silver
Decision-making machine
Can it take the pressures
Of expectations on board
Will I

Laughter echoes
In rarefied halls
Between clinks from glasses
Raised in champagne toasts
While expensive soles
Walk heavy
On broken dreams and despair

Another one lost
Too short, too precious, and gone
Little heart flown high
The vessel is cracked
Still holds the sacred blooms
Still revered
Though the blooms are without root
Rootless. Dying.
Still revered.
Water though refreshed,
Still stagnates
Dead blooms replaced
With freshly cut.
Repetition
Builds a patina of respect
Authority
Habit.
The vessel is cracked
Empty of life
Yet forever filled
and revered.

Autumn golden brown
covers the hard icy ground
a leafy carpet

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Bird sings by the pool
in the spring in a soft cool breeze
her voice a sweet sound

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Bug me, drug me
You’ll never touch my mind
Not that you want to
Afraid of what you’ll find
Afraid of the secrets
of someone in the know
Afraid of the exposure
of your elaborate show
So go on with your programme
Sticking to the script
Until the day you are aware
You’re playing in a crypt

Brushed by death today
Twice.
Metal boxes speeding
Too fast, too near me
Driven on by the wrong thoughts
Or expensive wanderings

Starlight is silent
Waves crash and roar on the shore
Then there is matter

The new can’t replace the should have been
The should have been haunts us forever
Though the new will be a healer
And receive all our love just the same.
It’s pointless being angry at fate
But that doesn’t stop the burn
The frisson on top of everyday stress
For the should have been we always yearn.
The new will have its own should have been.
So maybe we will understand.
And make a happier life will be.
At least that is the plan.

You people don’t understand.
It’s tradition.
It’s sport.
It’s in our genes.
Blood.
Jobs are created
By the sport we choose.
By the blood we shed.
Surely that’s enough.
Of course
The same can’t be said
For you
And your cock fights.
Shining argent in sunlight or silver sheen in the rain
Letter, rings, lions.
Phoenix or tiny names
Even flying angels and leaping fluid cats.
Bright, alluring but for many
The last thing they will see.

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Motes of dust
So we have been described
Floating in the vastness of time and space
Small, inconsequential.
Dust motes made of dust from ancient dead stars.
Yet.
So far.
Amongst all we see,
the starfields of diamond dust,
the ancient piercing light,
the glowing, magical, wispy nebulae,
the rainbow rings of Saturn,
the storms of Jupiter,
the blinding light of supernova,
the singular dark of black hole,
world after world
galaxy after galaxy.
Nowhere have we found
yet
Anything that compares
to the complexity, the wonder, the intricacy,
the magic
of
the thoughts of you and I

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

A sad shadow falls
Casting gloom over our dreams:
Sparks dispel the dark!
Originally published in A Spring of Dream
Fox detests the stream
Barring the way to her prey
Favour for the hare

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #258 Favor&Detest
#Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge

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
Astonished
By the lacking
The stupidity
The greed
More astonishing still
Are we
And our
Compliance

Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith, has started another one of her intriguing stories where she gets things started, tags another blogger to pick up where she left off, and then that blogger picked someone else to keep it going.
Fandago was second, and he tagged me as the third. So here goes.
To get us started, here’s what Teresa wrote:
Andy sat in the front row every night and watched the small family circus perform. There were clowns, acrobats, dog tricks, and even a high-wire walking monkey. His favorite though was the juggler. Andy watched as he threw balls, flaming torches, rings, and knives in the air and caught them with ease. Everyone in the circus seemed so happy and nice. He longed to join them.
Late one night after the final performance, Andy mustered the nerve to find the circus owner who traveled with them.
“I’ll do anything. Please let me join you.”
Mr. Tall looked at the scrawny boy and scratched his chin. He walked around Andy and looked him up and down. “What could you do for us?”
Andy spared no time to think. He blurted out a laundry list of menial tasks he could do.
“I have plenty of people to do that.” Mr. Tall shook his head and stared at Andy. “I asked what you could do for us? What are your talents? Your secret talents?”
Andy gulped. Few knew his secret, but those who did knew it immediately. Could Mr. Tall be one of them? Could he risk telling the truth? Not telling the truth? Andy took a deep breath and swallowed his fear. “I could …”
Fandango’s addition to the story:
…change my appearance.”
“What do you mean you change your appearance?” Mr. Tall asked.
“I’m a shapeshifter,” Andy said.
“You mean that mythological crap about being able to transform your physical form or shape?” Mr. Tall said. “Get out of here, kid. You’re wasting my time.”
“I can transform into anything I want,” Andy insisted. “Think of something you want me to change into. Don’t tell me what it is. Then close your eyes and I’ll let you know when to open them.”
“This is stupid, but fine.” Mr. Tall thought for a moment. “Okay, boy. Now what?”
“Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”
Mr. Tall closed his eyes and waited a few seconds. He then heard a voice from overhead instructing him to open his eyes. Mr. Tall looked up, but all he saw was a red-tailed hawk perched on the high wire near the top of the tent.
“So?” the hawk said, looking down the shocked circus owner. “You thought of a hawk, right?
“Am I hallucinating? Did you slip something in my drink?”
The hawk opened its wings and started circling above, slowly working its way back down to the ground. By the time it hit the sawdust covered floor, Andy was, once again, a scrawny, human kid. “So, Mr. Tall, can I work in your circus?”
Mr. Tall just stood there for a minute or two before he found his voice. He looked at Andy and said …
Now mine..
“Come with me!” and he hurried off into the night.
Andy rushed after him, eager to pursue the chance he had been longing for.
Mr. Tall brought him to the centre of the campsite, he stopped in a ring of caravans, the doors looking inward. Andy felt suddenly like he was on trial. The brightly coloured caravans seemed like elderly matriarchs, stern but hiding an impulse to burst into laughter.
Except, one. There was one dark caravan, unpainted and in disrepair. It was completely out of place in this bright court.
Mr. Tall caught the direction of his gaze and then looked abashed. He ducked his head as if to hide his shame or some other emotion not meant for Andy’s eyes.
‘I shouldn’t have brought him here,’ Andy heard his thoughts. ‘He will not resist that place and we will be discovered.’
Then he spoke.
“Listen lad. There’s no doubting your talent, we can use you. I am just not sure how. My people here, they. Well, they are an old fashioned bunch. Give them bearded ladies, conjoined twins and they’re fine. But you – you show them that and they will freak. And you and me won’t last five minutes. As for the audience. Well, we have to be subtle. Show them a trick that looks impossible in a way that they can believe it’s all smoke and mirrors.”
Andy stared at him. Was he going to give him a job or not? Was he going to bow out at the last minute? Lose his nerve?
Mr. Tall glanced at the dark caravan again, then back at Andy. He took a deep breath as if drawing his strength.
“OK. Wait here! I have an idea, let me introduce you to my partner. He will know what to do.”
With that, he swept off into the darkness between the caravans.
Andy stood, suddenly unsure what to do. Should he just wait? What was going on here? It was all very strange.
But then it was a strange situation he had engineered. And much of the strangeness emanated from him.
He smiled wryly at himself. Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted?
Then he caught sight of the dark caravan again. It seemed to draw his attention. What was in there. What was Mr. Tall afraid of? Ashamed of?
What would he discover behind that tatty door?
He found that he had already walked up the steps to that door. He looked around, something was warning him not to go any further but he found he could not resist. He pushed the door open.
It was dark inside. He stepped forward into the darkness. He took three steady steps and then there was a click.
Too late he sensed a trap. There was a clash of metal. The darkness fled as the sides of the caravan fell away to reveal he as inside a cage. A cage with fine wire mesh sides.
He could transform – but not into anything that small.
“So! You could not resist?” Mr. Tall. “You read my mind! At least as much as I wanted you too. And could not resist my bait.”
He smiled strangely.
“You are not the only one with talent.”
Before his eyes, Mr. Tall seemed to shimmer and he transformed. Not into an animal but into a young girl not much older than himself.
“We have been waiting for you to joins us for quite some time,” she said.
“Indeed we have,” said another voice. And out of the darkness came another man. Broad, long-haired and bearded, dressed in an immaculate suit.
“What shall we do with him?” asked the girl….
Teresa’s rules for Finish the Story are:
I tag – Ritu who is a vey talented blogger who is sure to take this a surprising way (no pressure there then 🙂 )
Shall we march?
Shall we shout?
Or kneel
And take it
As always
A turn our eyes away
To bright distractions

In response to my daily prompt March
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
In this mess
It must cross our minds
When Parliament fails us
There is a
Precedent
To remove them

In response to my daily prompt Precedent
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
The redistribution of wealth from the masses to the very rich minority continues apace. The groundwork has been laid.
First, we were seduced with the idea of quick riches – that we could join that elite. Invest in stock and shares – and be a part of our club they said – while they sold off our services.
Be free of your landlord – they said – own your own home – they say – while they sold off social housing.
Invest in your future – save for a rainy day – build your pension pot they said – while they took that money for their own ends.
With the rise of the subscription services model – we no longer own anything. Gone are record collections and family libraries – to be replaced with an intangible library
And now – the pressures start. Our kids start their adult lives saddled with debt from just educating themselves. We, their parents are so under pressure from austerity that we cannot support them. Remortgage after remortgage – after all nothing is as safe as houses.
But when the time comes and we look for our pensions – they are not there! They have underperformed or have just been stolen – gone into the black hole of bankrupt companies.
And then – surprise, surprise – there are suddenly all these companies that can help – with equity release or webuyanyhouse.com quick sale promises. All that property – that once belonged to us all – that we dreamed of passing down to our children is being hoovered up. They will end up in the hands of a very few large property magnates.
And we will be back in a feudal society once more. When everything is owned by a few – power will be theirs.

In response to my daily prompt Estate
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For the sake of one
Stray meteor dinosaurs
Might exist today

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #230 Exist&Today
#amwriting, #postaday

Respect is
Expected
Everywhere you go
Respect my rights
My views
My thoughts
We have forgotten
Respect
Should be earned
Not expected
Mutual
And reciprocated

In response to my daily prompt Respect
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Same, same, same
Same job
Same problems
Same pressure
I am wood
Not stone

In response to my daily prompt Pressure
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
Insurance
Remember
we have none
On the earth

In response to my daily prompt Insurance
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
From the symbol of peace
Comes a stealthy killer
Seductive and insidious
Giving all
It appears
But taking all
Even tears

In response to my daily prompt Heroin
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
Getting what you wished
Is not always what it seems
So wish well my son

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Life is engaging
Creatures decipher the truth
They peruse it all

In response to COLLEEN’S WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 110, “PLEASANT & READ,” #SYNONYMSONLY
Check the link for the guidelines and rules
A haiku this week. Keeping it simple.

#haiku
Cardiology
And ophthalmology plus
Good old A and E

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Leading with honour
Bonding with friendship, not fear
True path to glory

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #227 Truth&Honor but also inspired by David Attenborough’s latest masterpiece Dynasties
#amwriting, #postaday

A play in the park
Really knocks the wind from you
In these mature days

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Little pieces
Torn from our hearts
Rearranged memories
Making pictures
To last through time
Until the days
When they are no longer
Remembered
Just seen
As a mystery
From the past

In response to my daily prompt Mosaic
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
A sweet sweet Jewess
Married the dark Jew hater
Irony with teeth
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
An ice warning sign
A dark winding country road
Still, they whizz on by

In response to my daily prompt Warning
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
There is a puzzle
Seen from way up on high, that
Only birds can solve

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #226 Question&Resolve
#amwriting, #postaday

This is serious
The future makes me tremble
These frightening days

In response to COLLEEN’S WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 108, “AFRAID & GRAVE,” #SYNONYMSONLY
Check the link for the guidelines and rules
A senryu (sort of) this week. Very late and a little hurried

#senryu
Always racing on
How about stopping for once
To take someone’s hand

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Global warming
You might think
It will bring us tropical summers
It won’t
It will freeze us
Before it burns us

In response to my daily prompt Tropical
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Another long day
Topped off with some contentment
Others feel the dust

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Is it coincidence
That those that urged us to leave
Have left

In response to my daily prompt Coincidence
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The carrot
Is getting bigger
Nearer
More tantalising
Imagine the stick to follow

In response to my daily prompt Carrot
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Eleven fifty
Nine and almost out of time
Yet still ploughing on

In response to my daily prompt Late
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Who’s in partnership with who?
Are those that fight really enemies?
Is it all a show?
Distracting us from the truth
While they steal from us
Freedom, wealth and everything

In response to my daily prompt Partnership
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
Flying is an art
The pigeon needs no compass
To find its way home

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #224 Art&Compass
#amwriting, #postaday

And then
After an hours silence
He warms our heart
With a carefully crafted picture
Mummy in a tutu
Daddy very tall
Then himself dancing
And his new baby brother – coming soon
And Lucas up in the sky
Looking down from heaven
Not your average family
But happy

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Lots and lots to write
But my eyes are failing me
Red raw pools of pain

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Ruthlessness
Meanness
These are the traits
The media feeds us
Tells us we need
To succeed
Thus preparing us
For exploitation

In response to my daily prompt Trait
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Small
But in control
Determined
Light touch
On throbbing power
Riders

In response to my daily prompt Trainer
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Running
So fast we run
Stay ahead of the game
This is the story we are sold
Suckers

In response to my daily prompt Resolution
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Featured snippets
Knowledge panes
Keyword magic
Am I insane?
Chasing figures
Spun in the air
Where do I begin?
Where do I begin?

In response to my daily prompt Feature
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