The Hollow Edifice

Copyright Sandra Crook

So if I was to write

Lines separated

By random

Carriage returns

Throw in some nebulous

Sentiments

Talk about

Feelings

Mumbling about ideology

Plight of refugees

Racism and sexism

 Would you berate me?

About my blatant violation

Of the rules of poetry

Or be embarrassed

To admit

That

This

Is

Junk

A hollow core

With a crumbling edifice

Because for all you know

This could be the latest trend

And being one of the

Literati

You wouldn’t want to

Step out of the circle

You would talk

Of the yearning desire

Emotions felt

As nobody

Wants

To be a critic

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100.

Ok I've a silly entry in this week, maybe I'll grow up and write something more serious later ;-)                                                                                                                                                                       

I've been listening to great songs from the seventies recently and I've got obsessed with this song.  I have vague recollection of hearing this group as a child but now I can't seem to stop listening.

To explore with the other writers this week click here      

Fair Trade

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

You can’t find our village in maps and navigation systems anymore.  No references to it exist online though we were known in the sixties and seventies for our village fair.

I remember the excitement when the fair came around.  The market stalls with delicious food, crafts, spinning demonstration, book fair, ice creams and lots more. 

We walked in a happy stupor for months afterwards, so ecstatic that we never noticed the missing children.   Some parents even argued that they never had a child and would leave the village feeling offended. 

I remained unscathed. 

Why did they never take me?

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100.

To get on the ride with the other writers this week click here                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Along came a spider

PHOTO PROMPT © Victor and Sarah Potter

The problem with the media is that you only read the stories that sell.  Like the one about a simple homely girl who was enjoying a probiotic feast in the sunshine and was forced to run away when disturbed by an arachnid.

Ms Muffet not just garnered publicity and sympathy but also six-figure deals spruiking whey protein supplements and becoming the face of an insect repellent firm.

What they didn’t report was the case against Mother Goose for causing ‘deep emotional distress’ to the said arachnid.  The word is that the spider is spinning a very cosy web these days.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100.

I see this is second week in a row with a spider web theme.  To navigate web and read the other writers this week click here

Spinning A Web

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

My friend Carlos, he was one for tall tales.  Strangely he was probably the most honest person I have known.  His lies were just a subtle misdirection from truth. 

Say a group of us were discussing historical events, celebrity sightings or any mundane conversation and Carlos got involved.  He would take over, spinning a web of tall tales and an extended holiday from truth.

We would listen marvelling at the intricate design as zigzags, circles and patterns would be spun.  His stories were like Pinocchio’s lies, consistently misguided but never malicious. 

Though watching his nose grow long was fascinating indeed.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100.

And it is the start of a brand new year.  A very happy new year to everyone out there

To find out what the other writers have been spinning this week click here