So it begins

More flash fiction from Zenrinji

Zenrinji

graves

Things come in threes: he’s about to drop her off at the shops when he realises he’s left his phone at home, so can’t liaise about where and when to meet up.

Next, after he’s filled up the car with petrol, he discovers his wallet is in his other man-bag. At home.

After some frantic running around the money problem is solved when he spots her coming out of a shop. But later, returning from a visit to the local library, he finds his everyday glasses are no longer on his nose — and the library isn’t open for another two days.

“Is it nearly time for the pillow over the head?’ she murmurs, sultrily. And so it begins.

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SPAM #1 → MAPS #1

Zenrinji

map

Maps for transforming nonsense spam

Original
Genuinely when someone doesn’t be aware of afterward its up to other users that they will assist,
so here it takes place.

Nonsense → Sense

Genuinely, when someone doesn’t?
Be aware of afterward!
It’s up to other users that they will assist so.
Here it takes place.

Acknowledgement: Lizze Ross for competition submission

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Message in a bottle

Entries invited for my first (and only) spam poetry competition:

Zenrinji

footprints footprints

No matter
if some one searches
for his essential thing,

thus he/she wishes to be
available

that in detail,
so that thing is maintained
over here.

A recent, recycled entry in my ongoing spam poetry competition
Do you have a favourite bit of spoetry you think qualifies? Post it as a comment below; please note, it will only be considered if it ends up in my spam folder.

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A dream of death

An exercise I wrote a term or two ago for a creative writing class, I forget on what theme.

Zenrinji

mushroom_cloud

He’d never been close to death until then.

Yes, he’d seen dead bodies – his grandma, his father, a body in a road. True, this was death, but death as it had happened to others, deaths already tainted by premonitions of their passing or tinged with the innocent curiosity that characterises the young. This was not imminent death as it might apply to him: a moment of reckoning, a brief interval pointlessly proffered to put his house in order.

For those who’ve lived through it, even if memories have faded, the Cold War was a time of surviving on a precipice. Sometimes its edge visibly crumbled at one’s feet, as it did during the Cuba crisis. Sometimes there was just a feeling of vertiginous malaise watching grainy news footage of CND marchers, whether or not they were really cranks or communist stooges.

But one day death really came knocking at his…

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Rhyme without reason

Because it’s Chooseday I choose to reblog this …

Zenrinji

catandfiddle

Hey diddle-diddle
Come read me my riddle
Sing hickory dickory dock
For down came a spider
A gossamer glider
And landed on Bo Peep’s blue frock

This creature so lowly
She brushed off real slowly
Then played on her didgeridoo
She charmed not just creatures
But parsons and preachers
Who featured in France’s Who’s Who

Her sheep were not fazed
For they grew fat and grazed
Till a wolf with a weasely grin
Slipped the sheep, plus a goat,
Past his jaws down his throat,
By the hairs on his chinny chin chin

The spider then teased
The old wolf till he sneezed
Who then coughed up sheep, plus the goat,
And a cat with a fiddle, a rope round its middle,
Attached to a lifebelt and boat

So now ends my riddle
Puss played on its fiddle
And Bo Peep her didgeridoo
I hope you find pleasing
My rhyme without reason
Au revoir, tally ho, toodle-oo!

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