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

My Colour Pallet

My pallet is full of colour, some very bright and some very pallor. My colours show up every day, come rain or shine, sometimes murky and sometimes divine, all the colours are all mine. Some come through and really shine, when life is treading the right line, showing up like spring time. Sometimes they arrive on their own, sometimes with other colours they rhyme, fighting to decide which one is prime.

Some colours of mine are dark and mysterious, washing out the colour, leaving a murky wash where light no longer shines bright, blending into the night hiding the beauty out of sight, sometimes it spoils the mood, other times it sits just right. On the page, the colours fight to make it clear who is right.

My colours are a wonderful sight, blinding bright, then fading with the light. People debate which colours they like and which colours blight. For some the bright is always right and what they want to have always in sight. For others, the darker greys and murky haze is what they see every day, even when my blues fade away. All my colours are here to stay, changing place day by day, I can’t choose how they lay, but, if you don’t want to see all my pallet my picture is not for you, so go away and find a pallet anew.

 

 

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

Spider’s Web

Tangled up in a spider’s web, not knowing how to break free, never knowing why me. Hating myself and feeling so weak, nobody listens when I try to speak. Assertiveness doesn’t work everyone thinks I’m just a berk. Telling me what they gonna do and expect me to say I love you. I rue the day I had to send you away but we had tried and stood by you, come what may. But being abused by you every day was something I could not cope with on any day. You pushed to the limit, no one could win it.

Memories rekindled, life running on a spindle, memories I did not want to have, you were acting like a chav, no life did we have. Pushing buttons to get the rise, you couldn’t see the pain in my eyes. You blame me for your situation, yet you never learned, we all tried to help you but discerned, as every relationship you burned.

Threats of violence persist as though you have stuck me with a knife and continue to twist. Now you hate me, yet you say you still want to see. Getting your act together, yet you never want to change. Your life went downhill, I had no magic pill, now I just had to stop you getting killed.

When you have changed and got back on track, then I will consider asking you back, but if you show me no respect then you know what to expect. For we are kin through and through and I never stopped worrying about you. Oh, how I wish we were not caught in this spider’s web.

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

Summer Nights

Summer night, gentle light stroking breeze, breeze summer ease. Garden lounge, friends around, fluffy clouds. Birds singing upon the wing and chirp with glee amongst the trees

Children in the distance, play all day finding each other and running away. Smell of cut grass, pollen and rape seed, soon for us to feed, silver lights cross the sky, planes carrying passengers and cargo way up high.

Lowering sun casting shadows across houses trees and meadows. Long drinks in gardens green, looking out over tranquil scenes.

 

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

King

King on a mountain surveying the plains, there stood a proud creature with long main and a hunting brain, watching for pray observing how they feed and lay. King of stealth of freedom to reign to roam the vast plain. Don’t lock him up in a cage so small, in isolation no pride at all.

Laying in the mid-day sun, cubs playing rolling jumping running; learning to use their cunning. The lion watches the zebra drink at the water hole his eyes fixed on the heady mix, food to keep them nourished, to help the pride live and flourish.

Up on his paws stretch those long sharp claws, breath he draws. The king starts to charge grabs a zebra left at large, pack descend on the wild prey eating and fighting in the heat of the day, vultures circle waiting for their place in the chain.

Leave this majestic beast roaming the plains protect from hunters, their fate is a shame

 

Markey Mark Symmonds army, Blog, Blogger, bomb, Boots, death, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

D Day

Landing craft, fore and aft, full of men and boys poised to land guns in hand, close band of fine men. The start of overlord, the allied sword, men onboard to liberate a country, ready to maraud, engines hum in the darkness, thoughts turn to wives, kids and mums.

Landing crafts fall short of the beach, but still the aggressors they must breach. Ramp lowered boots pound first man out takes a round, into the sea, boots full of water pushing on, lambs to the slaughter. Guns firing everywhere, muzzle flash of yellow flair, everyone knows they are there.

 Soldiers topple into the sea like brittle skittles one, two, three. Single mind to win the battle to liberate these people treated worse than cattle. 4,000 allied soldiers die in the ensuing battle heavy guns pound and machine guns rattle, explosions all around, men cut down. Cold blood runs in the dark sea, bullets and shells rip them apart they know they are in hell and that’s just the start.

 

 

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

Senses #4

The taste of your lipstick as our lips meet and tongues flick.
The taste of your hand, as I kiss it like sand.
The taste of salt as I kiss away the tears.

The taste of food laying on a table, providing you are able.
The taste of beer on a hot summer day, relaxing and fooling in the hay.
The taste of summer as fresh as fruit salad.

Let me taste the spring water running through the hills.
Let me taste fresh bread, made from the flour ground in the mills.
Let me taste the seasons and long charming days.

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

Senses #3

Touching your body with all its curves, soft gentle skin to match your linen.
Touching the soft cotton of your dress my finger and thumb your hemline caress.
Touching the silk of your sheets, nicely laid with little pleats.

Touching your hand, I feel so grand, soft and warm a beautiful form.
Touching your cheek, soft as you speak.
Touching your face, a warm embrace,it feels like lace.
Touching your lips,your eyelids dip,as I use my mouth to take a sip.
Touching your soul, you as a whole, I’m slowly losing control.

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

Senses #2

The smell of your perfume lingers in my head, from when you get up to when you are dead.
The smell of cropped grass tells me its spring at last, green lush grass is so vast.
The smell of bacon sizzling in the pan, waiting to be devoured by a very hungry man.
The smell of the fire, wood burning pyre, sometimes, an odd tyre.

The smell of your musk as I explore your hollows, deep in you a choose to wallow.
The smell of your coat as you get ready for work, sends my senses berserk.
The smell of fruit in a bowl wanting me to devour it whole.

The smell of freshness and regeneration after the storm, ready for the rest of the day to get warm.
The smell of life, not trouble and strife, leave troubles behind and appreciate what’s around.
The smells around you will astound.

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

Beautiful Sights

Speak to me only of love.
Speak to me only of care, tell me you will always be there.
Speak to me of open minds, leave alone the bigoted grinds.
Speak to me of perfect days, of sunshine and heat haze.
Speak to me of empty minds, waiting to fill with things divine.

Speak to me of truth not lies.
Speak to me in equal measure and unlimited pleasure.
Speak to me of unfound treasure, in more than good measure.
Speak to me of tiny child, infant so innocent, tender and mild.
Speak to me of your desires, how you want to take them higher.

Speak to me of golden sands and lazy days holding hands.
Speak to me of sea and surf, being at one with the earth.
Speak to me of bright stars and moons, which disappear before noon.
Speak to me of all these things, of living and breathing human beings.

Speak to me of earth, for I have only heard curse.
Speak to me of all things good, what is going on in the neighbourhood.

For I cannot see the beauty around or the thrills that shape and astound. All I see is the gloom of the dark and old ladies mugged in the park. Free my mind from dark thoughts and catapult me into the light so I may see beautiful sights.

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

Senses #1

I see flowers starting to bloom lifting their heads from the winter gloom.
I see the river running so free, life force of nature for you and me.
I see children running and playing with glee, from morning to night then in for their tea.

I see lovers on a park bench, kissing and cuddling, their hands in a clench, gazing into each other’s eyes, pure thoughts and sometimes lies.
I hear a dog bark from a far, and the backfire of a car.
I smell the diesel and fresh cut grass, as I walk along the path.
I close my eyes and see nothing but dark, nothing to love not even a spark.

Open my eyes and mind to see what has changed, all the colours of life are back here again.