Mona Lisa Properties

My name is Mona, you will find the countryside here spectacular and I have just the place for you to stay. You will enjoy the forests and the lakes; both excellent for walking and of course you’ll be able to sail. The people are wonderful, they love visitors and as for the food you’ll never eat better. We have lots of sunshine, no need to worry about the cold or rain and of an evening you can sit in our alehouses conversing with the local population. You’ll never want to leave: you’ll never be able to leave.

Secrete

Cloaked, everything hidden from view; shops and office blocks cloaked in grey black windows and gaudy advertising; streamed cars perambulate the streets slowly, cloaking their owners in a dash of security; politicians wearing dark suits and Cheshire smiles cloak their intentions while the policeman walking the street cloaks what he clocks. Cloaked poverty is hidden in the tall stride of the proud woman as the mother, child in hand, cloaks her morning tears. Everywhere cloaked eyes avoid contact with humanity.

Three Metaphors

My life is an overflowing jug of water.

He is a locked cellar.

She is a froth of champagne bubbles.

Three Cinquains

Bumblebee

buzzes, seeks

chubby, fluffy, dangerous

carefully lining up flowers.

Collector.

Piglet

flits, hides

small, neat, wanting

fearfully seeks a different truth.

Challenger.

Sloth

finds, feeds

slow, careful, indifferent

arrogantly breast pounding nothing.

Dangerous.

Golden Child

A charming shallow boy; Teflon in nature, trouble oozed from his skin leaving no trace. Not overly malicious, yet adept at getting his sister and cousins into trouble. Energetic and bouncing around, he can suddenly become still and invisible. When adults are around he is deemed trustworthy and honourable, while his victims are scolded for being mean about such a nice boy. When authority figures are absent, hair is pulled and wrists twisted if his every whim is not met. That is on a good day. On a bad day, he complains of his victim’s terrible behaviour or sets them up for a fall. He is never blamed for wrong doings, he is never caught. His halo is gilt not golden and tucked neatly into his trousers there is an arrow headed tail. He is the future leader who is blameless when everything goes wrong and the officer who gets his men killed.

Yet unless you are one of his victims, you believe in this gold coloured boy.

Worm casts

She stood on tiptoe; her feet squidging into the wet sand. It was then that I heard the noise: I saw her mouth open, there across the rock pools and timeless grit, while the screech continued to echo off the cliff walls.

‘What’s the problem?’ I shouted as I started to run in that way that only mothers can. The seagull like sounds persisted. Arms pumped feet faster. Without breath I reached her.

‘What’s up?’

Now sobbing, she splurted her reply: ‘That.’

I looked where she pointed; the beach was hillocked with worm casts.

‘Them? They’re only sand. Come on, let’s go. Don’t be silly.’

‘No. Can’t. They might come out.’

She was petrified, superglued to the ground. I looked up, thinking, trying to resolve the issue.

‘Oh shit,’ the words hissed from my mouth. There two metres away, where there had been sand, was now water. The tide was coming in, fast.