Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Paradise 

There is a cold wind blowing across the sand as we walk hand in hand, bare foot on cold sand. It’s been some time since we have been on land. The chill outweighs the thrill as we hear the trill of the birds. Not talking just walking on this paradise island, a canopy of Green on the edge of the sand. 

We look for food which seems to allude. We head to the forest to see what we can forage oh what I would give for a bowl of porridge. We find berries and mango a small picnic for me and you. Fire wood and shelter next as branches are striped and flexed. Palms for the floor we even managed a makeshift door. 

We settle down by the fire stripped to our underwear while we dry our attire on sticks in front of the crackling fire. We soon fall asleep, but up we leap when we hear the creep of a litter of critter from in the woods, deep. 

Then in the morning the sun is out and the sea glitters as waves trickle home to the shore. We head down the beach and into the boat to start our journey again. Pulling hard on the oars sweat drips from our pores in the heat of the rising sun.

All alone in a boat in this blue tranquil ocean afloat  to nowhere, just being there. Sand in our hair without a care we don’t know when we will hit there, wherever there is. But for now you, me, sun, sea and a boat drifting afloat is where we are. No house, no job , no car just us in a boat to see how far.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

Nirvana

buddha-against-sunsetWhy was I put upon this earth? Should I be a noble man or a serf? What will I have done when I leave this earth? Will I have loved or caused mayhem and myrrh? Perhaps I will be rich and famous or be found in a ditch. Maybe, I will marry a princess who turns into a bitch.

When I die will I go up high or down below will I lie, when my end is nigh. I don’t know why but I don’t cry but I will know when the time is right, when I reach my Nirvana, my state of enlightenment. Why we are here will become clear and we will have nothing to fear.

Re incarnation, the afterlife, will we be free from trouble and strife or will we suffer this endless pain, reliving and paying again and again. All I can do is leave of myself a memory of me to keep on the shelf. Not a picture or ornament made of delft but a real part of myself. Apart that has given love and care a part of me that will always be there. See, I believe my nirvana is almost there, I was put here because I care.

Why was I put upon this earth? Should I be a noble man or a serf? What will I have done when I leave this earth? Will I have loved or caused mayhem and myrrh? Perhaps I will be rich and famous or be found in a ditch. Maybe, I will marry a princess who turns into a bitch.

When I die will I go up high or down below will I lie, when my end is nigh. I don’t know why but I don’t cry but I will know when the time is right, when I reach my Nirvana, my state of enlightenment. Why we are here will become clear and we will have nothing to fear.

Re incarnation, the afterlife, will we be free from trouble and strife or will we suffer this endless pain, reliving and paying again and again. All I can do is leave of myself a memory of me to keep on the shelf. Not a picture or ornament made of delft but a real part of myself. Apart that has given love and care a part of me that will always be there. See, I believe my nirvana is almost there, I was put here because I care.

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

This World

shutterstock-Love-HateIn the cold dawn of light, in this world full of hate and spite where no one knows who is wrong and who is right. In this world of fantasy and flight where everyone is on a ladder trying to reach a great height where all the world comes into sight and little children no longer fly their kites.

In this world of death and destruction where image is more important than love, where we can find no doves. In this world where is the love, where is the living being, in this world that is all seeing.

Where do you and I fit in? where can we make a din or will it be committing a sin just because we are not in. Leave your hate and don’t rate you never know your fate. Love thy neighbours and beyond. There is no magic wand just love and hate that collide. Love is what we should try.

In the cold dawn of light, in this world full of hate and spite where no one knows who is wrong and who is right. In this world of fantasy and flight where everyone is on a ladder trying to reach a great height where all the world comes into sight and little children no longer fly their kites.

In this world of death and destruction where image is more important than love, where we can find no doves. In this world where is the love, where is the living being, in this world that is all seeing.

Where do you and I fit in? where can we make a din or will it be committing a sin just because we are not in. Leave your hate and don’t rate you never know your fate. Love thy neighbours and beyond. There is no magic wand just love and hate that collide. Love is what we should try.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

The Comment

comment

Every time I hear that comment it rips into my heart and every time you say it again it tears my soul apart. I am not good at many things in total or in part, I’ve tried it all from chemistry to art. But all the time you undermine and cut into my mind.

I thought when I left school I had left it all behind, but the world sees I’m fat and that’s how I’m defined: my love; my humour; my kindness and my pain all these things are part of me to which you are blind. I’m not asking you to be nice and kind, I just want you to stop cutting into my mind.

Let me leave the pain behind, of my past I don’t want to be reminded yet you bring back my raw memories with every word and obscenity. You seem to know just where to throw those words of hate and spite, that decimate my being and make me all uptight.

You won’t stand in front of me in case I start to fight, with thirty years of hurt in side waiting to take flight. One little warning to you one day it just might

Markey Mark Symmonds flash fiction, poem, short story, Uncategorized

Our Heroine’s Second Adventure

1950buickblue

Alice Del Mar has been feeling a bit under par and is going to meet a friend for a spa to relax in the bubbles to sooth away all their troubles.  She goes to the bank and into her account sank, to rescue the money for the spa. The hole in the wall with the green surround dispenses the money in five and ten pounds.

But, as our heroin Alice looks round two burley men knock her to the ground. They look to the left and look to the right there is no one in sight. They pick Alice up off the ground. With a crimson lip and painful hip, she struggles to get free. But one burley man puts in a knee and poor Alice is put down again.

They bind her and gag her and put her in the boot of the car she does not know where they will go but she hopes it won’t be far. Once at the car the boot is ajar and she is shoved in the rear, the lid comes down with such a bang it nearly bursts her ear.

Alice Del Mar is locked in the boot of a car, not knowing where they are going or how far they will take her in this dark smelly car. She screams and bangs but no one can hear, a lesser woman would shed a tear. Off went the car with Miss Del Mar stashed away like a prized loot. Her breathing was mute as she listened for clues to the route. Alas, there was none only dark and the hum of the car.

She fished in her pocket and pulled out a key, this was a chance to get herself free. She fumbled the key into her teeth and pushed it into the catch hoping to spring the latch. Up shot the latch and she opened the hatch and rolled onto the tarmac.

She kept on rolling off the road and into a hedge all pitch black in case her abductors turned back. She lay oh so still at the top of a hill, unable to let out a shrill. Tied and gagged and scraped and scratched she lay silent waiting for the car to come back. But all she could hear was the wildlife here move with a grunt and a crack.

She got to her feet and staggered to the road, hoping for a passer-by to meet. A car pulled up at the side of the road Alice was ready to explode. A woman got out and said hi I’m Carol and this is my husband Pete.

They bundled Alice in through the side giving our heroine somewhere to hide. They took off her ties and gag and soon their tongues started to wag. Although Alice was cold all was told as they drove to Alice’s abode. She finished the story at the top of her road.

When she got in she headed for the Ginn and poured a big one with lime just as the grandfather clock struck nine. She picked up the phone and laying prone she told the police the tale of her woe.

Yes, Alice Del Mar arrived home safe and well with yet another story to tell.

 

Markey Mark Symmonds flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Tinnitus 

Sitting here it’s quiet or it should be, Tinnitus is troubling me. The constant wringing in my ear let’s me know it’s still here. When it’s quiet or I go to sleep up it let’s the volume creep until this crescendo peeks with pops and bangs and then it hangs right here in the middle of my ear.

My hearing goes and sometimes i don’t know what you say. Lip reading, getting the gist, back filling and finger spelling get me through the day, helping me know what you say. Talk clearly and steady but please don’t talk like I’m a baby carrying a teddy.

When it’s noisy I can’t hear, just the buzzing in my ear, my hearing aid for which the NHS Paid, helps a bit it makes it fade. But once it’s out the ringing is back like some sort of raid. It’s worse at night when my head is laid and eyes shut tight.

Then there’s a knock or a bang I wake with a fright wording if I should run or fight. No one else heard the noise, I regain my poise and realise it’s all in my head. I lay on the bed filled with dread about the rest of the night ahead.

 

Markey Mark Symmonds flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

On the Edge of Sleep

On the edge of sleep not going too deep where awake and unconsciousness meet. Where dreams are starting to seep into and out of low level sleep. Images come and go, no one familiar, no one you know. 

Body heavy unable to move, myoclonic twitches permeate the being in a sensory world no one else is seeing . Streams of light and colour tainted by darkness flash in the mind in a world on the edge of sleep, this world in which I would like to keep. My breathing is slow and deep inside in my parallel universe just short of sleep. 

I stir at noise and regain my poise hoping to drift back to that place on the edge, where darkness settles it’s head, when it’s needing it’s bed. Moments of panic, not knowing where I am, back in the real world on the edge of my mind. Yearning to return to that place again, that safe place from where I came. The place where no one drives you insane, the place I go to again and again.

Markey Mark Symmonds flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Just to Be

Relaxation

Close my eyes and listen to my breathing, my heart slows but is still beating. Darkness dispersed with colours, silence whirring in my ears.

Sitting here Being just me just able to just be. Connected with my earth connected in the universe, yet heading into insignificance. Mind empty no fog, nothing at all just being part of it all. Body relaxed muscles so limp and heavy.

Breathing in and out I feel naught, nothing is there nothing to scare, just to be there, yet I feel I’m not, just feel the cold and feel hot. I’m just being me and learning just to be.

 

Markey Mark Symmonds flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Coffee

cup of coffee

Make it large or make it small maybe short or maybe tall, drink it at home or in the mall. Coffee can be had with love and even when you are in a mood best of all you can have coffee with your food

Black, white frothy or flat have it alone or with a friend for a chat. Morning afternoon and night coffee any time is just right

It keeps you awake and bright, it calms you down when you have had a fright in the middle of the night.

Coffee can be wrong or right dark or light in a mug or from a cup calm you down or pick you up. Coffee is fine any time.

 

Markey Mark Symmonds flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Bogged Down

 

brain-fog

My head is like quicksand today trying to write but it won’t come. No water flowing, ideas coming then going, my brain is just a sponge full of grunge.

My pen keeps moving but it’s losing the battle to make a poem rattle. loads of ideas in between my ears but can’t get them on paper tonight.

My brain is in a bog and I need to write my blog, but it’s just a clog, my brain is a fog it’s such a slog. So, forgive me today if you don’t like what I say. I can’t guarantee what will appear from the fog but whatever it is it’s on my blog. Oh, how I hate brain fog and being stuck in this bog.