come fly with me he said I thought he was joking I sat in his car he leant across did up my belt wound up the windows and grinned at me eyes glittering his face took on a silver tinge I thought you fool the car roared off wheels barely touching the ground I gripped … Continue reading joy ride
Other writing
Short poetry
Free verse the sentinel stands guard her eyes searchlights seeking scurrying intruders her feline body silhouetted by the moon Couplet Discarded plastic bag floating in the river aimless, like a dead jellyfish. Quatrain The gusty wind tears at the ragged leaves, The roiling clouds are building in the west, The tousled birds huddle beneath the … Continue reading Short poetry
The Staffordshire shepherdess
Jean hung her handbag on the back of the chair and sat down at the kitchen table. She clasped her hands neatly in front of her. ‘Mum, Sonia rang me yesterday. She’s worried about you.’ Maggie smiled at her daughter. ‘Don’t worry about her dear. She’s just a busybody.’ ‘This is serious Mum.’ Maggie sighed, … Continue reading The Staffordshire shepherdess
Xena
She gazes down from on high, an eastern potentate surveying her domain. Her eyes are yellow lamps slowly shuttered against the sun. Her body gently quivers as she rumbles her contentment. We her unworthy handmaids and slaves offer morsels for her delectation. She deigns to notice us and slowly rises leaping supple as a dancer … Continue reading Xena
A job for life
I’m from the government, he said. I’m here to help, he said. You’d be doing a public service, he said. I was unemployed. What could I do? Said it was the perfect job for me – a job for life. I was never much for all that washing and brushing but I wasn’t all that … Continue reading A job for life
The wood
Helen kicked off her shoes as soon as she came through the door, dumping the plastic shopping bags on the floor. All idea of a quiet cup of tea, of time, space to herself, evaporated with the sight of the kitchen table strewn with nut, bolts, small dials, pieces of metal and wood. ‘Can’t … Continue reading The wood
the coven
they sit shoulders hunched against the cold fingers tightly grasping scalding cups of liquid a motley group of women some aging thin and bony skin wrinkled in homage to the sun others plump and fecund sporting short skirts and teetering heels whispering secrets not their own they watch those who pass them by the innocent … Continue reading the coven
Catherine Meyrick 