I wrote this poem last week for Reena’s Xploration Challenge #309 but I didn’t manage to post it timeously. You can find other poems for this theme here: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2023/11/30/reenas-xploration-challenge-309/

The picture above depicts our theme for the week but is not the prompt.

I scanned the net for poems on Opposites and was stuck at two brilliant lines, in a poem by Dzejnieks.

It’s just… Me sipping through dimensions.
Both so different I consider them almost parallel.

You can read the full poem here.

Now, about the writing prompt.

You can choose any one of the following options. If you feel exceptionally inspired, feel free to write more than one piece, or get them all together in one. The choice and creativity is yours,

1. Choose two people, concepts or theories which are opposites of each other. Write a dialogue, two paragraphs or two stanzas to bring out the perspective of each side. You can use a conflict, war or a debate as a backdrop.
2. Choose the above image as your inspiration.
3. Weave in the two lines from the poem given above in your piece – be it poetry or prose. Give due credit to the poet.

Two Young Men

A Hay(na)ku series

Tall

And thin

Towering over me

***

Shorter

Powerfully built

Younger of two

***

Intellectual

A swot

Lives to learn

***

Lazy

Avoid studying

A stereotypical boy

***

Different

Polar opposites

Fight out differences

***

United

By blood

Brothers standing together

W3 host by The Skeptic’s Kaddish blog

W3 Prompt #84: Wea’ve Written Weekly

Selma’s prompt guidelines

• Imagine a person from an old memory looking in on you through an open window;
  • You’d all but forgotten about this person, but today their presence has given rise to this memory;
  • What do you see? What’s going on?
• Write this as a Memory Poem:
  • Purge this memory out of your system; allude to the memory; banish the memory; 
• Poem length: 100 – 300 words;
• The poem must end with these words: “Let him/her look”

A Memory Poem?

A memory poem reflects on and celebrates personal memories and experiences, often evoking feelings of nostalgia, joy, or sadness.

Granny Joan

The plaster of Paris figure

Adorned her dressing table

Pluto, hand painted by me

The quiet granddaughter

I recalled its pairing, Mickey Mouse

The one that didn’t survive

I tried to wash him in the swimming pool

Within minutes, he melted away

Returned to water in a cloud of powder

Absorbed into the surrounding mass

I was shocked and I cried

The survivor, I gifted, to Granny Joan

Her treasure, displayed with pride

One day she was gone. Dead!

My first experience of that black word

Death, that took Granny

And never brought her back again

Granny Joan, the artist

Taught me how to make a cradle

From a plastic butter tub

And left over pieces of material

Showed me how to make

A beautiful dolls house

From a wooden tomato box

The house had paper windows, curtains, and a door

She drew me paper dolls on stiff card

I learned how to make clothes for them

With little tags to hold them on

Under her tutorage I gained

The skill of embroidery,

Applique technique,

And how to design and sew

A variety of Cindy doll clothes

***

Granny Joan, the encourager

Of a young girl’s creativity

I wonder what she thinks

When she visits me from Heaven

I always leave my artworks on display

To let her look

Colleen provided a beautiful picture for this week’s Tanka Tuesday. Sadly, it doesn’t really fit into a boiling hot South African heat wave pre Christmas period. So … I picked my own picture to write a poem about. This picture also works for Terri’s red and green holiday colours Sunday Stills challenge.

You can join in Tanka Tuesday here: https://tankatuesday.com/2023/12/05/24-seasons-syllabic-poetry-challenge-no-11-12-5-23-part-i-heavy-snow-december-7-20-taisetsu-%E5%A4%A7%E9%9B%AA/

Heat wave Beach

Hot sand burns small feet

Child placed on reddened shoulders

Carrier moves forward

Slight weight causing sinking

Large feet roughly abrading

More poems

Bush co-dependency

Warthog spies

Abandoned burrow

Safe and warm

Residence

Aardvark digs, warthog borrows

Co-dependency

Colourful inspiration

Comprised of colours

The vibrant world around me

Decadent paintbox

Providing inspiration

For my writer’s eye and pen

Burned offerings

Overdone flowers

Baked brown and brittle by sun

Diminished shadows

Of last week’s magnificence

Heat’s collateral damage

Fairy nightcaps

Violet lace nightcaps

Designed for sleeping fairies

An enchanted tree

Sunday Stills

You can join in Sunday Stills here: https://secondwindleisure.com/2023/12/10/sundaystills-monthly-color-challenge-holiday-red-and-green/

This is the second last Thursday Doors challenge for 2023. I am taking the opportunity to share a few night time doors and a through the door picture. You can join in Thursday Doors here: https://nofacilities.com/2023/12/07/military-stuff/

Veranda dining area at Madikwe Hills towards the lounge and bar area.

Reception area at Madikwe Hills at night

This is a picture of TC having coffee in the coffee shop at the hospital on Tuesday. I took it through the glass doors of the cake display cabinet.

This is a clip of a leopard tortoise sighting we had during our recent visit to Madikwe Game Reserve:

This is a YT short of a ground squirrel which I thought was very cute:

The Evil You Choose by Dan Antion

What Amazon says

The Evil You Choose

Zach Amstead has kept his ability to participate in lucid dreams a secret for over fifty years However, in the high-tech world of the 21st century, he has been discovered by an FBI Special Agent who has a corrupt agenda and who is willing to employ illegal tactics while working toward his goal.

Thomas Slocum gives Zach a choice – cooperate in an illegal operation or be treated as a terrorist. Slocum’s plan puts Zach on a collision course with organized crime leaders, a corrupt politician and brings innocent people into dangerous situations. Worse, the FBI process which allowed Slocum to uncover Zach’s abilities threatens to expose the abilities of his best friend, Billy.

Zach must get ahead of the FBI in a precarious race. He must protect Billy, and he must choose which criminals he can trust.

My review

The Evil You Choose is the second book in the Dreamer’s Alliance series and focuses on Zach and Billy as older retired men who have developed their different abilities over the years, and amended their lives accordingly.

Billy, in particular, is very interesting as he lives largely ‘off the radar’ but has advanced technology at his fingertips to investigate and learn about anything he wants too. I liked seeing how Billy’s intelligence had developed and how he ran rings around the FBI and the ‘powers that be’.

This book introduced a new character, Thomas J Slocum, an FBI agent with a personal agenda. Mr. Slocum has come across records from Zach’s time at the Pathway School and learned about his lucid dreams. With his access to information due to his job and position, he has learned interesting information about Zach’s movements and formed his own conclusions about the reasonableness and possibility of Zach’s lucid dreams. He uses this knowledge to coerce Zach into working for him. His aims are to investigate certain well connected crime families, in particular the DeLitos who are a part of Zach’s past, and bring them, and their government connections to justice. Mr. Slocum’s primary aim is to push his own career goals. There are others involved, however, who have their own, different personal agendas.

Zach believes he has no option but to assist Mr. Slocum and he engages the assistance of Billy, his brother, Mike, and his daughter, Abbie, to try to stay one step ahead of both the FBI and the crime families he is being forced to spy on.

I enjoyed the development in Abbie’s character and abilities in this second book. I’m feel certain her role in the series is going to increase and become more important.

The story is engaging and fast paced and although the story line of the FBI exploiting people with unusual abilities is not new, Zach’s lucid dreams is certainly a fresh angle for me and makes the entire story interesting and unusual.

You can purchase The Evil You Choose from Amazon US here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BCBQSHQZ

Colleen’s challenge:

This week: Your writing invitation is to compose a series of three dodoitsu.

“The dodoitsu is a Japanese poetic form developed towards the end of the Edo Period, which came to an end in 1868. As with most Japanese forms, the dodoitsu does not have meter or rhyme constraints, focusing on syllables instead.”

WritersDigest.com

Below you will find three kigo phrases that pertain to the northern hemisphere and the southern hemisphere (5 syllables each). Use one kigo phrase in each of your three poems.

• #1: “early winter dusk”
• #2: “chilly north winds blow”
• #3: “warmth around the hearth”

For the southern hemisphere:

• #1: “dusk in the garden”
• #2: “fine weather bird songs”
• #3: “early summer clouds”

1. Please write each of your dodoitsu with this syllable count: 7-7-7-5.
2. All the Poetry Resources links you need to create your poem are here: https://tankatuesday.com/2023/11/28/24-seasons-syllabic-poetry-challenge-no-10-11-28-23-part-ii-light-snow-november-22-december-6-shosetsu-%e5%b0%8f%e9%9b%aa/
3. You must use one kigo word phrase in each of your three dodoitsu poems.

Early summer

Sky still blue, clouds catch sun’s rays

As it descends in the West

Heavens burn with orange fire

Dusk in the garden

***

Perseverance brings success

Fine new nest gains acceptance

Weaver’s excited cheep joins

Fine weather bird songs

***

Stifling heat hangs heavily

Fine drops decorate hairline

People await relief from

Early summer cloud

Pretty in Blue (Shadorma)

Hydrangeas

In floral print frocks

Fifty shades

Of bright blue

Nature’s exhibitionists

Seeking attention

Spin the Wheel

Wheel of fortune spins

As threatening clouds gather

How will heatwave end?

With rejuvenating rain

or with destructive hail balls

Imagine

This poem is sad, only read it if you don’t mind being saddened.

Imagine

Taking your living

Beating heart

Putting it to sleep

With sweet smelling strawberry gas

Handing it with care

To men in white

With masks

And glove covered hands

To probe

And fix

And mend

Now imagine

Doing that

Forty-two times

The amazingly talented Resa McConaghy, costume designer and “Art Gowns’ creator extraordinaire, has created the most splendid post about my historical novel, A Ghost and His Gold. It has photographs and drawings and is an incredible exploration of the history in words and pictures.

If you don’t know Resa, you can find her photographs of artworks and street murals here: https://graffitiluxandmurals.com/

You can find her beautiful environmentally friendly ‘Art Gowns’ here: https://resamcconaghy.com/

Thank you, Resa!

A Ghost and His Gold – by: Roberta Eaton Cheadle

What Amazon says

Francesca Clark-Bartlett, wife of the American Democratic Party’s presidential nominee, seeks more power than she already has. Meanwhile, the attractive yet naive Melissa Iverson wishes she had never inherited her family’s vast fortune.

After they both become entangled with a 44-year-old, womanizing British intelligence agent, the two women find themselves in a web of deception and mystery. Threatening letters, dark family secrets and connections to persons of power all tell them that the path they tread is wrought with danger.

Daniel Kemp’s Once I Was A Soldier is a thriller brimming with international intrigue, and a story of poignant self-reflection.

My review

This is the second book in the series that starts with What Happened in Vienna, Jack? The author does a good job of connecting the main character in this second book to the same main character in the first book. Terry Jefferies aka Patrick West, is now middle aged, but is still working for British Intelligence under men who are devious and happy to set him up and misuse him for their own advantage. He has become a womanizer with an active service role that involves heavy drinking and seducing various women ‘of interest’ to the British authorities. Terry is a far less likeable character in this book than its predecessor, but the odd memories and backflashes to his younger days and his Irish love interest from book 1, did allow me to like him a little and feel sorry for what a poor example of a man he’d become. Terry is actually a victim in this series as his employers keep him in the dark about a lot of essential information which is only disclosed slowly as the story progresses.

Melissa Iverson is a spoiled rich kid who is hell bent on getting her own way at any cost. She is instrumental in the death by suicide of her father, following which she heartlessly retrenches the elderly couple who have worked for her family their whole lives and sells the family property. It is impossible to like Melissa as she is so selfish and heartless, she literally throws the Spencer’s out on on the street. Subsequent to her father’s death, and even before, she has spent her life hopping from bed to the next and, given that this book is set in an earlier more conservative time, she suffers several consequences as a result of her rash and uninhibited sexual behaviour. It is impossible to like Melissa and so even when she turns on the ‘poor unloved girl who just wants to be looked after’ act, I was not able to feel sorry for her. I thought the ‘setting up’ of her character was well done by the author and aided the inevitable clever twist at the end of the story.

The other important character is another spoiled and selfish woman called Francesca Clark-Bartlett, wife of the American Democratic Party’s presidential nominee. Melissa and Francesca are connected through society and Melissa published a book written by Francesca about her father. Terry’s employers need information about Francesca and her husband and Terry is sent to America to seduce her. Francesca is not the sort of woman anyone could seduce, but she is happy enough to exploit Terry, whom she find attractive, sexually and also introduce him to her circle of sad, sexually deprived friends. Terry is happy to oblige and a part of the book is devoted to his erotic engagements with Francesca and her friends.

Melissa starts receiving letters threatening her life and immediately reaches out to Terry which whom she has had a previous week long affair. He goes over to America to assist with finding the potential killer and becomes involved again with Melissa.

The story is involved and you have to pay attention while reading as the lives and circumstances of these two women unfold and their relationship with each other is revealed. Terry is injected into all of this intrigue with little knowledge of the real stakes. It makes for an intriguing and fast paced story with an unexpected and exciting ending.

Purchase Once I was a Soldier

Available as a paperback, hardcover, ebook, and audiobook from Amazon US here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B075XCQ3JG

Find other books by Daniel Kemp on Amazon US here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Daniel-Kemp/author/B075XRTBRP

The Challenge

Creativity Challenge:
Getting to Know a Character

It can be hard to create well-rounded, real-seeming characters.  However, once you know what they would do in random circumstances, writing their stories gets easier.  I offer up this writing exercise.  From the point of view of a character, write a journal entry.  It’s even better if this journal is outside the timeline of your story.

Not Just for Writers!  If you are not a writer, pick a character from any story that you like.  If you like to cook, dish up something you think the character would like.  If you paint or draw, sketch out the character’s favorite room or place.  Or even draw the character.  You get the idea — make whatever you create something related to that character.  Then tell me what you’re going to do in a comment.  Or better yet, do your own blog post about it, and please link back to this one.

For my own response to this challenge I decided to write a journal entry for Daphne Moultrie from my “A Medium’s Peril” series.  My image collage below would be an “art” response to the challenge, with Daphne’s new gown and the pie she made.

The artwork

Picture caption: A bunch of red roses on a cross shaped grave within a cemetery filled with similar cross shaped graves.

This artwork is going to evolve into the cover of my forthcoming collection of paranormal, historical stories called And, the Grave Awaits.

You can view more of my artworks here: https://www.robbiecheadle.co.za/art-gallery/

The challenge

This is an extract from the Journal of Kate Henderson from The Soldier and the Radium Girl.

From the journal of Kate Henderson 

I am all alone in the house tonight. I could have gone to a dance with Charlotte and some of the other girls, but I didn’t want too. I am very sad, and I do not want my melancholy to spoil their fun. The newspaper headlines seem to get worse every day and I don’t know if Jake is wounded or gassed, or even dead.  

There was no telegram for me today, but I think it is too soon. If there is bad news, it will only come tomorrow or the next day. 

My curtains are open, and a lovely breeze is coming through my open window. It is heavy with the scents of damp earth and blossoms. The lights of the town twinkle in bright lines in the darkness and I can hear faint strains of music. It is so peaceful and pleasant. Such a striking contrast with what I’ve read about life for our boys in the trenches.  

Jake doesn’t say much in his letters about the conditions, but Grace tells me her brother’s letters are full of complaints about the poor conditions of the dugouts. 

“Gilbert said the first thing they did when they first arrived was to clean the place up and get it as sanitary as possible. He says there are frequent inspections from battalion, regiment, and brigade officers to enforce the requirements for good sanitation. It’s a good thing as it will help stave off diseases,” Grace said. 

“He says life is a constant battle against the endless mud and water.” 

My days in the studio are busy but the working conditions are pleasant. The big windows let in lots of light and the girls are cheerful and good company. I almost feel guilty that I have such an interesting and safe job, compared to Jake who is fighting in France.  

I wonder where Jake is now and if he is safe and well. Is he thinking of me? I wish he was here. 

You can join in Teagan’s challenge here: https://teagansbooks.com/2023/11/15/wednesday-writing-creativity-challenge-1920s-recipe/

My Dark Origins post today is a fun war book quote quiz. Do go over to Writing to be Read and test your knowledge. I will share the answers later this week.

Thank you for hosting, Kaye Lynne Booth.

Wishing all my American friends a happy Thanksgiving tomorrow.

Dark Origins – Remembrance Month edition: War book quote quiz #DarkOrigins #Warnovelsquiz

Colleen’s challenge this week was as follows:

Your writing invitation is: Compose a series of three tanka:

Below you will find the three kigo phrases (five syllables each). You can use them as the “turn lines” or “pivots” (third lines) for each of your three tanka, or as the first line of your tanka.

You must use one kigo phrase in each tanka as either the first line or the pivot line in each of your three tanka poems.

I used:

The first month of hail, Advanced spring garden, Gather around braais.

I love this idea, Colleen. I also added to Robbie Kigo poems.

You can join in here: https://tankatuesday.com/2023/11/14/24-seasons-syllabic-poetry-challenge-no-8-11-13-23-part-ii-the-beginning-of-winter-november-7-21-ritto-%e7%ab%8b%e5%86%ac/

Fickle Spring

The first month of hail

After days of loud rumbling

As black cloud gathers

Icy bullets pelt tin roof

Cats hide behind thick curtains

***

Crunchy chips collect

In drains and flowerbed troughs

Advanced spring garden

escapes excessive damage

Unlike previous onslaughts

***

Dismal grey gives way

To sun – families seize chance

Gather around braais

Smoke curling up into sky

Unmarred by treacherous clouds

Unexpected

Seeded pin cushion

Squat, unattractive green ball

Flower creator

Produces mass of petals

Revolving around bright sun

Moulting

Everywhere

On chairs, couches, and

In the beds

There is hair

Vacuum buzzes all day long

I hide evidence

Sunday Stills

Terri’s challenge is brown. Brown, brown everywhere … You can join in here: https://secondwindleisure.com/2023/11/12/sunday-stills-monthly-color-challenge-all-the-leaves-are-brown-and-much-more/

There is a joke in my captions. If you watch this you should get it:

The frog did the most amazing stretch for me:

Reena’s weekly prompt is the above picture: Let the muse take you from dark windows to light, till you see something that resonates with you. So many things keep happening behind windows – of buildings and our minds.

Ground rumbles and shakes

Raining shells light up the night

Manmade death rules all

Dark dreams

In the black

Of the night

Dark dreams grow

Fueled by memories

Of past mistakes,

Sufferings,

And hurts

Don’t let them

Suck you down

Into Hades

Allow the splinters

Of redeeming light

To bring you back

This is an extract from The Soldier and the Radium Girl

This book has been languishing for a year as I did not want to write an American courtroom set of scenes. I had an epiphany yesterday and have come up with a better ending that doesn’t require courtroom scenes. So, the writing is back on … and, this extract fits the prompt.

“There are no trenches,” the words came down the line of men marching through the darkness towards the unknown ‘front lines’ ahead. “The front lines are a series of outposts.” 

“Keep it down,” Sarge growled, “Are you trying to get us all killed?” 

What the hell is an outpost? I kept moving, my boots clumping heavily on the soggy duckboards, my bowels twisting into a tight ball, and my feet lumps of ice in the wet shrouds of my socks.  

Thank goodness I kept all four pairs of socks, I thought.

“Companies F and H go to the left here. Follow your sergeant to the dugouts.  

“Companies E and G, keep straight onwards,” the words floated softly down the line.  

Looking up, I realised I could see dark grey shadows moving through the thick mist. Morning had arrived. 

The dark grey sky had softened by the time we reached the first outpost and one of the four platoons peeled away from the group. Bypassing the next low-slung grey hulk, my platoon continued until a third materialised out of the dimness. 

“Follow me,” Sarge’s hissed softly, moving out of the line and towards the concrete bunker. I gazed at it, fascinated, and a row of round holes, set into the concrete wall, stared back at me. We followed him down some steps leading to a wooden door.  

The dark underground room was large and smelled of churned earth and sweat. After lighting the lanterns, each man found a space to stash his gear.  

A whistling sound ripped the air apart, followed by a thunderous burst as the shell hit the ground somewhere nearby. I sat down hard, my legs soft jelly. More whistling, more terrific bursts that shook the earth beneath us. Then it went quiet, a horrible loud silence in the aftermath of the explosions. 

We all sat quietly breathing deeply for some minutes, five, ten, I don’t know, and then a cheery, heavily accented “Hello” brought us all scrambling to our feet. 

A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the light grey mist.  

“Hello, I’m your neighbour, Lieutenant Laurent.  I would like to offer you some breakfast.” 

“Thank you,” Sarge accepted. Our field kitchen would take some time to set up, so this invitation was well received. 

The French served us hot biscuits and coffee with condensed milk. I cannot describe the deliciousness of the biscuits. Soft and light, they melted in my mouth and were a far cry from the hard biscuits included in my ration packs. The good food, together with the lively conversation among the men of the French 219^th Infantry, was warming and welcoming. The strange numbness I’d been experiencing since the earlier shelling faded. 

I wonder if I can get the recipe for these biscuits. Kate could make them; she has a light hand with baking. 

This short bit of relief from the shock of the early morning attack that welcomed us to the front lines ended when Lieutenant Laurent stood. 

“It is time to start work for the day,” he grinned, his stiff black moustache coming to attention at his words. 

Two platoons were directed to work on preparing dugouts a bit back from the front-line posts. 

The rest of us were divided up into patrol units comprising a mix of American and French troops and within thirty minutes had left the advanced post. 

“Is this a railway line?” I pointed at the metal tracks. 

“Yes, the railway overlooks the canal,” a Frenchman called Aubert said. “We are going to check the Bosch aren’t attempting to repair any of the bridges that cross the canal. We’ll also check our defences.” Aubert also had a little moustache. I watched it undulate as his mouth moved. It was strangely fascinating. 

There were no signs of activity at any of the bridges. They lay wet and shining beneath the sullen grey sky that seemed to remain unchanged despite the presumed progression of the sun beneath the cloud.  

At 4.30 P.M. we approached the last bridge for the day. The clouds parted, and for a moment an errant ray of sunlight shot down, throwing up a dazzling flash as it hit something lying in the dirt on the other side of the bridge.   

Without pausing for thought, Big Mouth rushed across the bridged and snatched up a spiked German helmet – a pickelhaube.  

“Get down,” yelled Aubert, collapsing down and throwing his arms protectively over his head. We all dropped, squelching into the thick mud, face down. 

Nothing happened. After a few moments, finding I was still alive, I looked up towards the bridge. 

Big Mouth stood frozen, right in the middle, shining helmet in hand and a surprised expression on his face. It wasn’t clear to me whether his surprise was due to Aubert’s reaction or that he was still in one piece.”