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

Summer Days

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASweaty, sticky, tacky heat; talking about the change in weather with everyone you meet. Rotary fans and ice cream vans, people making holiday plans. Windows down on cars and vans, babies out in pushchairs and prams enjoying the heat with their mams.

Barbecues start to be used, sausage and chicken and burgers, finger licking; Washing it down with a drink of your picking. Flip flops and shorts; summer dresses; children in swim wear, hats on their hair, playing for hours without a care.

Venture out, if you dare, sun cream on your body hat on your head, protection from sunburn, going red. Larger and lime or grapes from the vine. Bottles of water not from the tap, checking the forecast on an app and looking for the seaside on a map.

Then comes the night, all sticky and hot pyjamas on or maybe not. On top of the duvet the breeze on your knees all the pollen has made you sneeze. Lack of sleep daylight creeps on the bed in a heap. Get up early, out of bed you leap. Into the cool shower to raise you from your sleep.

On with the shorts and vest, you are already a sweaty mess. The summer is here to stay, you want to make the most of every day.

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

Apache

apacheA big wind fills the sky dropping out of the storms eye, dust cloud to shroud, ready to deploy its lethal crowd. Down goes the ramp to start the decamp, thirty men fresh out of camp. Out they go to and froe; left and right into the night covering the arcs in case of a fire fight.

Heads down and up goes the storm, big wind lifts to the skies, clouds of dust, sting the eyes. Night goggles down its green all around, now they can see the role of the ground. Up on their feet, they start to move out, talking in sign, no need to shout.

Then comes the crack of enemy fire, a large explosion from a trip wire. Everyone’s down returning fire, movement up ahead, five hundred men wanting to fill them with led. Grenades and rockets crash to the ground bullets are seen whizzing around. The enemy is to big they have brought to few men for this gig. The order is given to give ground, back they start running, boots and hearts pound.

Every man running into the night trying to avoid capture they know their plight. Into ditches left and right, zero sights for the impending fire fight. The radio operator gets on the wire asking headquarters to send some hell fire. One by one the bodies fall then comes the deadliest sound of all. Click, click the ammunition is spent and in the enemy hardly a dent. More and more the enemies might, hammers at the men on the run in the night.

Up goes the order to stand and fight they know this would be their last night. Fix bayonets prepare to charge eyes wide open the battle is large. Next comes the order to engage the enemy, 30 angry men with fire in their belly, charge. One by one they are cut down, the last man falls as he reaches the crown of the hill, to the noise of the apache ready to kill.

The apache strafes with all its might, hellfire missiles light up the night, Hundreds of soldiers run with fright but no one is safe from Satan’s might. It comes in for another pass sweeping the grass left to right. Then the ground becomes still, off goes the apache back over the hill, back to base with news of their kill. Graves are dug and bodies tagged and put in the ground small wooden crosses lay all around this killing ground.

 

 

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

Vertigo 

That sensation of falling sends you sprawling, head spinning cold sweat, floor met. Staggering , bouncing off the walls, walking down the hall. Shut your eyes hoping it subsides.

Sit up quick before you are sick, call out grab me quick I’m falling. Fullness in the ears this could last for years.

Empty shell living hell, no aura, no taste, no smell just the dizzy spells. I’ve felt like this on a night out but it was alcohol before.

Now, I’m sober liable to keel over. Then nausea and sick, ears not feeling so thick. Hearing damaged further ravaged. Oh how I wish the room would not turn, my stomach churns and with my lack of hearing I discern.

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