Boxy

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Worn out, knackered, done
A brimful of boxy fun
In old Legoland

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Deep Roots

By Scott Bailey © 2017

The roots of the trees are deep
In the deep of the old old forest
Digging in the dirt, drinking in the earth
Long are the memories
The past seeping slowly from
Root to trunk to branch to leaf
Contemplating
Ripped up.
Houses built.

Image by Filipes from Pixabay

Grey

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Gunmetal grey
Blood-red letters
Professional presentation
Businesslike
Guns and Blood and Business
Bedfellows for eternity

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Latecomer

By Scott Bailey © 2017

The latecomer arrives
The straggler
Moving slowly and surely
Youth spent
Only to find
Everyone else departed
Leaving him
With only their mistakes

Photo by Rene Asmussen on Pexels.com

The Eye

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Behold the great eye
Watching through the trees, maybe
Just a butterfly

Butterfly Wing

Curse

By Scott Bailey © 2017

The tiger curses
Beautiful, perfect pelt
The hunter’s desire

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

Wonders

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Starlings swooping down
As they spy the big city
Wonders await them

Image by Unachicalinda from Pixabay

Blind (Etheree)

By Scott Bailey © 2013

We
are blind
to the truth
Everyday
Suffering goes on
And we deny it all
Unable to find a way
Through the maze of our modern lives
To a place where we can be ourselves
And hold out that hand that helps our neighbour

Instead we clench our hand in a tight fist
Holding tight onto what we have gained
Not seeing what we are losing
What slips away from our grasp
Diminishing our souls
Focused on our goals
With such passion
That we are
simply
Blind

Image from Pixabay

The Urban Jungle – Thirteen Tales

The Urban Jungle

The pressures of civilisation conflict with the urge to conserve and record. Someone – something – intervenes from with echoes from the distant past.

The Urban Jungle

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. Others 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 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……

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

On the Cusp

By Scott Bailey © 2017

On the cusp
Of hell and
Something else
Who knows what

Photo by @joagbriel on Pexels.com

Prudence

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Prudence
Saves me
From rash acts
And decisions
Damn prudence
I need to fly!

Image by Public Co from Pixabay

The Siege of the Stupid

By Scott Bailey © 2017

We have handed over our passport
Battered down the hatches
In a siege of our own designing
Some feeling smug justification
Others wondering if they should have done more
All responsible
All of us
Remember this
Huddled behind our walls
When the hunger strikes

Photo by Anthony Beck on Pexels.com

Fortune

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Fortune favours the bold
Risk equals success
People stop seeing risk
And hand over their cash
Their time
Their labour
Their lives
The minority shine
The majority are mesmerised
While they fall

Territory

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Territory shrinks
As the walls rise again
And the drawbridge is raised
The world is smaller

The worst of times
From long ago
Are opium
Entertainment
Sleight of mind

Meanwhile
Terry the Tory
Sniggers behind
Fake pride
And cheap beer

Protest
Is the latest sport
Avarice
The virtue of power

Photo by Aaditya Arora on Pexels.com

The Elixir

By Scott Bailey © 2017

The Elixir
Swept through the void
Hunting
Stars glinting off the
Silver skin
The peak of human invention
Empty and silent

Photo by SpaceX on Pexels.com

Seasons

By Scott Bailey © 2017

I’m fresh out of spring
Beyond the long summer days
Winter is coming

Photo by Jessica Lewis Creative on Pexels.com

Blue Eyes

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Blue eyes turned purple
Deep purple and very still
Watching all my life

Image from PIxabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

Purple Eye

By Scott Bailey © 2014

From the purple eye of death
The last exhaled breath
Comes an aweful doom
And darkness starts to loom

It dims the roads once bright
Quenches golden light
Sends tremors through the land
Like my trembling hand

Trembling on the key
That sets the danger free
Releasing purging fire
Born from grief and ire

Fear will bring the dark
And there is no lighted ark
So hide your fears away
Until the final day

Purple Star

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Deep bright purple star.
Piercing from the depths of roiling blue gas clouds
And a million billion stars
Outshining Venus and Mars
Swathes like silver​ paths
Some gathered in spiral wheels
And between them in the sparse dark spaces
Ships blink and travel on by.
A memory from the deepest well of childhood.
A memory that could not have been.

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

The Green Wizard

By Scott Bailey 2006

I cannot believe this! If anyone were to stop them, this mob of hungry hunters raging through the forest, then nobody would believe the explanation.

The people of the village, the county planners, the farmers, the surveyors, the members of the RSPB, all are hunting in the night. They are hunting the Green Wizard.

What will they do when they catch him? The question fills me with fear.

What will he do?

I feel responsible. It was my decision. I weighed up all the considerations and reached the verdict.

Whatever choice I made would be opposed. The conservationists urged me to leave the forest alone. Those who favoured progress wanted the forest managed and great tracts of it grubbed out for profit.

I should be used to this. I was brought up in the country and we learned to live with threats.

And I had made this kind of decision for years now. I was used to angry crowds. How could they know that I felt their anger and pain? I always found the best compromise.

Unfortunately, this often hurt the countryside.

What had gone wrong this time?

The Green Wizard, that was what. Ever since I set eyes on him I have sailed seas of madness and now dragged the entire community with me.

Last night I saw him. I was wandering in the evening light near the edges of the forest trying to make my decision. I wasn’t sure that this old forest would benefit or even survive having its heart grubbed out. But the village that nestled twinkling below the forest needed fresh hope. The industry this would bring might make a crucial difference.

Then I saw it! A green light bobbing between the trees. At first, I thought it was a firework for it had that bright magical quality. It was an artificial green like the glass baubles of a Christmas tree. It drew my heart towards it.

I walked in, my fear disappearing as I entered the solace and safety of the trees.

Darkness fell completely as the sun sank but the green light bobbed before me and led the way.

It must be a willow-the-wisp I half told myself but its beauty was far too potent to resist.

I came to a clearing and then I saw that the light was a flame flickering on top of a staff held by an old man. He was dressed in a green robe that shone as bright as the flame, with the same entrancing shade. He looked the way that all wizards look in storybooks. Wide-brimmed, pointed hat, long beard.

Only his beard was green. He was the Green Wizard.

He beckoned me towards him but when I got a few feet he held up his hand and I felt a force block me. I felt the full potential of his strength in that strange touch. He could have crushed me with a thought.

“The forest must not die.”

His voice was deep and strong, trusty as oak and full of command!

I nodded.

“There is life here,” he went on, “that is beyond the comprehension of your people. It is vital to the power of the earth in ways you cannot understand. It will not lie idle any longer. If you threaten, it will react.”

“Who are you?” my voice a scared noise in the sudden immensity and darkness of this forest.

“I am the life of this forest! I am the power of the earth!”

I nodded again.

“An agreement is reached!” he boomed. “If you break your bond your life will be forfeit.”

Suddenly something moved in the leaves. I whirled around and a fox bolted across the clearing. All around the clearing the bushes suddenly rustled and shook with life. I spun trying to see what made the noises. There was nothing.

It stopped. The only sound was my panting breath.

It was dark. The Green Wizard was gone.

I thought I had imagined him but I saw a flicker of green, like a warning, away in the trees.

I knew then what I had to do. I had made a bargain. My life was forfeit if I did not make the right decision now.

All my doubts of mad hallucinations disappeared then. The Green Wizard was real.

The next day those concerned gathered at the village hall and listened to my decision. It went badly. Not surprising.

I had some support. The conservationists were pleased with the verdict. Their precious forest would be left to its natural state.

But most of those gathered were businessmen and farmers whose livelihoods were at stake. They were not going to let some upstart in a suit take that away.

I lost my nerve. I couldn’t meet their arguments. Every reason I put forward for the conservation of the forest they pulled to pieces. I cursed the Green Wizard for abandoning me to this. Where was he now that I was fighting his battle?

Finally, I had nothing left. I declared that the forest would be saved. They would not relent. They wanted to know why I had made this decision when I had no argument to support it. They pushed and pushed me until I could stand it no longer.

I told them about the Green Wizard. I warned them of the danger.

The whole hall was silenced. Even my supporters looked at me, trying to fathom out the madness that appeared to have seized me.

Finally one of the farmers said it.

“He’s mad! Or on drugs!”

I bowed my head. Where was this going to lead?

“This is a farce!” said another voice but then everyone suddenly gasped and fell silent again.

I looked up.

There hovering in front of me was a small globe of bright green light!

I stared at it. What did it mean? It was obviously from the Wizard. It was his shade of green, vivid, unforgettable, alluring and dangerous like something was burning that should never have been set alight.

“Is this some sort of gimmick!?” said one of the farmers.

The globe of light rushed straight at him and knocked him off his feet in a shower of sparks. Then it stayed where it was, where it had hit him.

The farmer slid back across the floor and hit his head against the far wall with a crack. Blood flowed immediately. People rushed to his aid. Others turned to me.

“If he’s dead you had better pray that the police get here quick before we’re finished with you!”

They all suddenly looked ugly. I feared for my life and wondered if this is what the green Wizard had meant. Had I failed some kind of test? Had I been chosen to champion the forest and failed?

“Look!” A young girl was standing by the window pointing up to the forest. People stared out and piled from the hall. I followed.

There, high on the hill, the whole forest was alight from within with the strange green glow.

“It’s the Green Wizard,” I said.

“More likely some new age travellers who don’t want their peace disturbed by the idea of having to pay their way like the rest of us.”

At that point, the green globe suddenly shot out of the window, through the glass without breaking it. At impossible speed, it shot into the heart of the forest.

By now people were muttering things about ghosts and UFO’s but the main core of farmers and businessmen were having none of it. They decided to go and find out for themselves.

I followed the frenzied crowd that raced up the hill to the entrance of the forest. I felt drawn, whether by them or the forest I don’t know.

At the entrance stood the Wizard. Tall and menacing but only I had felt the touch of his power.

“Do not touch this forest,” he said but he sounded somehow weary.

“Who the hell are you?” someone called out.

“He’s the Green Wizard,” I replied feebly but was ignored.

“You can’t tell us what to do with our forest!” someone else yelled at the figure.

“We don’t need freaks like you dossing on our land.”

“If you want to remove me then you will have to catch me!” he sneered. With that, he turned and disappeared quickly into the trees. The flame of his staff was still visible.

With a yell the villagers set after him. they became a pack of hungry wolves after their prey. Their eyes burned with fury.

I yelled after them, warning them not to go. They did not listen. Helpless I followed in their wake.

They crashed through the trees and the undergrowth picking up sticks and waving them as they went.

And even now as I follow them I find it hard to believe.

I fear the outcome of this but I am not sure who I fear for most. This horde is wild and out of control. If they catch him I would not be surprised if they tore him limb from limb with their bare hands.

But I have felt the power of the Green Wizard.

Suddenly we are before him. There he stands. Like an old man, weary with the chase, leaning on his staff in the middle of the clearing.

The mob grab him. Their fury somewhat dampened by his appearance but not quenched. They bind him. The rope is tight around his arms but he does not struggle. As the villagers dance around him like demented witches he holds my gaze with an accusing stare.

The dancing goes on and on like a frenzy but slowly people drop. They sit and lie on the ground, tired by the night’s activity. Despite the Wizard’s relentless stare I too sink to the ground. Around me, people are falling asleep and I find I cannot resist the need to join them.

I awake to find myself choking. Something has hold of my throat and is strangling me. I can’t breathe.

All around me are bodies. All held by tree roots or thorny vines! Some struggle feebly for others it is too late. Many are being dragged into the earth by the irresistible power of trees.

The Green Wizard stands watching the process with a blank expression. His ropes lay on the ground, snapped and frayed.

He turns his back on me, not even deigning to notice my dying breath.

I tried. I did try.

The End

Image from Pixabay

Parlay

By Scott Bailey 2017

We swing from lack of
Parlay to way too much talk
Blessing or a curse?

Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

 

Free

By Scott Bailey 2017

Let the wind blow me
On the course of its desire
The ocean’s freedom

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Sparrow

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Sparrow, sparrow in my way.
Briefly tell your tale today.
Tell me if my love is dead.
Do I waste the tears I shed?

Briefly, now I’ll tell my tale.
Pray your courage does not fail.
You do not waste the tears you shed.
Alas I say, your love is dead.

A sharp, cold sword did spill her blood.
She tried to stem an angry flood.
But peace that day she could not win.
So fearful war will begin.

Thank you bird for being true.
Nothing’s left for me to do.
To take up arms and pursue strife.
Slay the spoilers of my life.

I bid you, sir, think awhile.
Turn from this dark path so vile.
Listen to my humble song.
Step not where your lover’s gone.

Just a simple bird am I
But far above this land I fly.
And see its beauty spread below.
See ahead, where you might go.

Lay down your sword with forgiving heart.
Do not tear your land apart.
Still your rage and vengeance cease.
Follow rather a path of peace.

Humble bird I hear your song.
But my love is dead and gone.
So I raise my sword today.
And will make those killers pay.

The enemies that broke my heart.
And now have torn the land apart.
Upon their heads is all this blood.
For I must release the flood.

Then sir, I shall shed a tear.
For the future I do not fear.
Yet for now I swiftly go.
To make way for the crow.

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

What Ifs

By Scott Bailey © 2014

What ifs hang on
Like poisoned barbs
Even in the face of reality
All reason tells you
Let them go
Rip them from the flesh
Yet deep they go
Sharp their points
Beyond the anaesthetic
Of mere words
So rise up
From the river
Of doubt
Rip that flesh and bleed
Step on the shore of tomorrow
Healing first needs hurt

Image from Pixabay

Big Brother is Dead

George Orwell’s

1984

Showed us the nightmare vision of socialism gone to extremes

It didn’t come to pass.

Instead – we welcomed in something far more insidious.

Capitalism unmarked.

Welcome to

Mankind Limited

Welcome to the rebellion

Welcome to The Secret

In response to Scott Daily Prompt – 1984

Hesitation

By Scott Bailey 2017

I hesitate
Vacillate
Dissemble
Hold back
Yet the words I need
To express to you
Are bursting
In me
They need freedom.
I
I
OK
Here goes

Um.
Where did you go?

Photo by Nicola Barts on Pexels.com

Quicken the Resistance

By Scott Bailey 2017

Maybe
The danger we face
The sheer wall of darkness
Will quicken the protest
Flesh the resistance
Hasten the day
The snowballing
Of the revolution

Photo by Sides Imagery on Pexels.com

The Secret

By Scott Bailey © 2017

The ancient secret
Burns in our hearts and our blood
Obscured by sharp lies

If you really want to know the secret check out Mankind Limited

Photo by Tayeb MEZAHDIA on Pexels.com

Difference

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


 

Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com

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

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

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

 

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

Image from Pexels

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?

Sharp

By Scott Bailey © 2017

Silk slides on the breeze
Meets the flow of sharpened steel
Leaves a perfect tear

Image by 3D Animation Production Company from Pixabay

Oversight

By Scott Bailey 2017

Inevitable
Our downfall will be caused by
A small oversight

Image by Schäferle from Pixabay

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


Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Kissing the Flame

By Scott Bailey © 2017

The meteor dares
To kiss the flames of the sun
Then slingshots away

Image by WikiImages from Pixabay

Exposure

By Scott Bailey 2017

Sleek steel aperture
Widens for a brief moment
Exposing a truth

Image by Frantisek Krejci from Pixabay

Aesthetic

By Scott Bailey 2017

Thinking aesthetics
Is vaguely anaesthetic
Trying hard to write

Photo by Marcus Aurelius on Pexels.com

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

Image from Pixabay

Exquisite

By Scott Bailey 2017

Exquisite black lace
Sheer black nylon
Spicy perfume air
Smooth black hair
Blood red lips
Deep blue eyes
Soft warm skin
Hot pulsing blood
Cool night beckons
Exquisite black lace

Image from Pixabay

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

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Capable

By Scott Bailey 2017

I’m not capable
Of writing a good poem
Tonight. Worn right out

Photo by Cup of Couple on Pexels.com

Someday

By Scott Bailey 2017

Someday, one day, soon
After that important thing
That I need to do

Image by Eduin Escobar from Pixabay

The Little Monkey

By Scott Bailey 2017

Little monkey clings
Tightly to his mother’s back
Ancient lizard flies

Photo by Nitin Sharma on Pexels.com

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

Image by Paolo Trabattoni from Pixabay

Coasting

By Scott Bailey © 2017

This car is coasting
Familiar road ahead
Time to go off-road

Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com

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

Image from Pixabay

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

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams