Jane Jago's Blog, page 459
November 14, 2017
Elements of Life – A Haiku
These are the cobbles
The paved pathway of your life
Mourn each stone unturned.
These are the strong bones,
The skeleton of your life,
Each one shapes your form.
These are the waters
The ebb and flow of your life
The tides of tears shed.
These are the zephyrs
The very breath of your life
Soft hope-bearing winds.
These are the embers
The sustenance of your life
The courageous flame.
These are the moments
The measurement of your life
Each a priceless gem.
November 13, 2017
Monday Meme – The Tree
PLEASE NOTE THIS SHORT STORY HAS ADULT THEMES.
When I was young, I was as supple as a snake and I grew tall and slender. I felt that I could touch the sky with my fingertips and I swayed and sang with the summer wind. As I grew broader, my trunk became the bulwark against which the small creatures of the forest braced their backs in winter weather.
I had just reached the pride of my full prime when the men in hard hats came with their steely instruments of torture. They marked my trunk with y...
Pet
A limerick’s good as a pet
I doesn’t need feeding, and yet
It will come to your aid
When you’re sad or afraid
And I’ve never been bit by one yet
© jane jago
November 12, 2017
Sunday Serial – VI
When her phone rang she answered absent-mindedly, then sat up and took notice.
“Oh hi, Pats. Yes. They’ve just arrived. He seems fine. This Sam has a good way of handling him. He makes everything seem normal. What’s he like? I didn’t look that close. They are all in the bath together now. You want me to sneak a peek? Right. I’ll behave. He’s nearly big enough to be a Cracksman, just not quite as hefty. Dark hair and skin. Not your regular middle-class Caucasian doctor. Do I like him? I dunno....
Growing old …
You are old, so at home is your place
Just counting the lines on your face
But you party all night
Crawling home when it’s light
Your whole life is a bloody disgrace
© jane jago 2017
November 11, 2017
Weekend Wind Down – Team Holly
Holly dragged a couple of very heavy bags out of the back of the Land Rover and hauled them into the kitchen. She went back for a second load, and as she was passing the staircase Alan’s voice floated down.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Bring it here and let me see it before you wrap it up.”
“As soon as I’ve finished hauling groceries.”
There was the sound of movement overhead and for one delirious moment Holly actually thought he was coming down to help. But then she heard a door slam. Her...
The Thinking Quill
Dear Readers Who Write,
Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV at your service mes estudas. For those whose education has missed out on my coruscating brilliance, I am the orchidaceous creator of that classic of superlative speculative fiction ‘Fatswhistle and Buchtooth’, and the selfless author of ‘The Thinking Quill’ – that work of pedagogical genius you are so eagerly licking with your little pink tongue in order that you may imbibe some insights into the mysteries of the authorial inspiration....
November 10, 2017
Friday Friends – from ‘The Rose Thief’ by Claire Buss.
There was a bit of shoving and muttering as Ned pushed his way through the ranks. He didn’t have to look too hard to find the murder scene, all he had to do was follow the curious crowd. A fair number of the shifty looking men in nondescript clothing had come to make sure Two-Face Bob was actually dead. Certain people owed certain things and if his death were true, life had sudd...
A bite of… Ned Spinks, thief-catcher in ‘The Rose Thief’ by Claire Buss
The role of thief-catcher is time honoured in Roshaven. Well, it’s been around for as long as anyone can remember so that’s more or less the same thing. You see, we have all these Guilds who look after crime. I can’t say I’m a big fan of such blatant rule breaking but it seems to keep things mostly in order. I’m supposed to attend weekly meetings and get the receipts for upcoming...
November 9, 2017
Saturnalia – from ‘Dying as a Druid’
Later, as they lay in bed under the goose down comforter, Dai pulled Julia so she lay across his chest.
“What do I have to wear at this gods-forsaken function tomorrow? I’m dreading it, the annual temple turnout for the birthday of the Divine Diocletian I mean. Outside? December? Toga?”
Julia smiled down at him.
“No. Tunic and trews, and a good warm cloak. You have new trews and tunic in fine cashmere wool. You’ll be fine. You should rather have pity on me, as women are not allowed to wear t...
