Shanghai. My flight to Hong Kong is delayed considerably. (I discover later that this has occurred because the Chinese Air Force has suddenly closed the airspace for an exercise and that it is not uncommon.) Finally a boarding call is given to a gate downstairs from the busy main departure area, empty of all but … Continue reading Scenes from the Asian road – 2
Author: Doug Jacquier
Words of Warning
This is my response to the prompt 'Warning Labels' from The A Mused Poetry Contest The fridge magnet letters spilled out on the table, followed by the numbers and then a WARNING label. ‘Some more advanced children may well be prone to spell out things you may not condone.’ Piffle, I snorted, as I added … Continue reading Words of Warning
Scenes from the Asian road – 1
Seoul. I am meeting with a potential South Korean supplier. We are in an old part of the city in a building which is part office and part museum. We have all removed our shoes. While we talk, we partake of seemingly endless cups of tea prepared and drunk in the traditional manner. Some of … Continue reading Scenes from the Asian road – 1
The radio kills people
This piece is in response to this week's Carrot Ranch prompt to write a 99 word story that includes something heard on the radio. It can be from any station or era. What is heard? A song, announcement, ad? Think of how radio connects people and places. Go where the prompt leads! The radio kills … Continue reading The radio kills people
What’s a metaphor you, alphabetically speaking?
You're like: Abseiling (if you could teach an abalone to seil) Busking in Brunswick with a balalaika, Cats who only eat Dine, Dancing (strictly no ballroom), Ease (only accomplished without practice) Fencing without a face mask, G, but with no strings attached, Honesty (often unseemly and embarrassing), Intelligence (seldom found disappearing up itself), Joy (beware … Continue reading What’s a metaphor you, alphabetically speaking?
A mother’s lament
In the outer suburbs, in the space between the bush and the town, therapy is what you get from a physio. When the cracks appear in the plaster and they start to match up with your mind, because the foundations have slipped, you ask not for whom the telephone bell tolls because it never tolls … Continue reading A mother’s lament
Some morsels of pasticherie
Sonnet: Be still, my swell-ed heart I did but see her glassy-eyed, astride her pied ride as she wended to her home sighing in her saddle set to the side, clutching her cask of wine to her bos-ome Full sore my lovesick heart (and other parts) swell-ed as Cupid’s arrow shrived my mortal soul and … Continue reading Some morsels of pasticherie
A magnetic personality
Your healing, random, magnetic, barely understood, as you intend. Home to refugees, your face reaches in and palpates (like a surgeon) that fluttering life muscle behind their eyes, and leaves them anaesthetised with wisdom. As your moon-tides wax and wane, these words, the iron filings of my own secret armour, cling to your magnet eyes … Continue reading A magnetic personality
Blood lines
At her birth she staggered on unfamiliar legs while her mother licked her clean and tried not to stand on her in forgetfulness or fatigue. Soon she stood alone, with a coat that waxed in spring and waned in winter moon. At the yearling sale she pranced, nostrils flared, unminded of her fetlocks in the … Continue reading Blood lines
Give until it hurts
February 1983. The Ash Wednesday bushfires are out, apart from the odd hotspot, but the smell of the burnt eucalypt and livestock and the smoke haze still hang in the air. On this particular day, a motley collection of fire crews, SES, Police, welfare workers and volunteers gather around 44 gallon drum braziers because it’s … Continue reading Give until it hurts
