Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Slime

By Scott Bailey © 2018

From the slime, we came
To the slime
We seem to defer

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Slime

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Advertisements
Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Hunter

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Amber brown bristles
Fletched true
Sighted
On the smooth straight shaft
Knocked
Creak of wood
And leather
Tense flesh
Strength of arm
Years
Of hard work
Hard life
Peaked
In tense flesh
Aimed

Deep russet red
Undulating tight
Over perfect form
Moving with surety
Strength and grace
Slender neck
Proud eyes
High points
Antlers spectacular

Slow high-speed
Flight
True
Through high trunks
Ancient towers
Sturdy and rough
Flicking leaves
Pungent smell
Of spilt sap
Over lazy ferns

Struck
Sunk deep
In perfect flesh
Deep russet red
Covered in bright
Fresh crimson
Hunter
Has hunted

Dusk
Deep red sky
Flecked with sparks
Orange
Embers fly
On aroma
Of roasted flesh
Venison
Consumed
Hunter sated
For now

Started awake
Cold
Stone and straw
Shit and piss
And chains
A dream
Of a memory
Despite all
A happy dream
Amidst horror
And darkness

Weakness
Flesh wasted
In forgotten depths
Waiting
For nothing
Time drips
Away
Into nothing
Sodden straw

Stronger arms
Clad in chain
Dragged from darkness
Down cold
Stone corridors
Into light
Hammering eyes
Screams and shouts
Hammering ears

Then rope
And wood
Strong scent
Of wet rope
Rough against
Weak neck
And wood
Creaking underfoot
Screams and jeers
A clunk
Freedom from weight
From the wait
Exhilaration
Then……

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Lazy

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Lonely Tree

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Lonely Tree

The lonely tree
Stood atop the blasted hill
Stark
Barren branches snatching
Rays from a mist-shrouded sun

Every now and then
Upon an errant breeze
Flits a weary bird
Resting one more time
On its final flight
Then falls

All around the roots
Dead birds and ash
Giving meager succour
To the lonely tree

One day
From that blood-soaked soil
This tree’s seed will rise
Green will conquer grey
Once more

But too late
For this final witness
Of our fall

In response to my daily prompt Liability

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Lonely Tree

By Scott Bailey © 2016

Lonely Tree

The lonely tree
Stood atop the blasted hill
Stark
Barren branches snatching
Rays from a mist-shrouded sun

Every now and then
Upon an errant breeze
Flits a weary bird
Resting one more time
On its final flight
Then falls

All around the roots
Dead birds and ash
Giving meager succour
To the lonely tree

One day
From that blood-soaked soil
This tree’s seed will rise
Green will conquer grey
Once more

But too late
For this final witness
Of our fall

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Feel

By Scott Bailey © 2018

When was the last time
You really felt
The weave of a really
Good fabric
Wool or tweed?
Or the tickling temptation
Of lace
Over smooth, warm skin.
Or shivered in the dark
Back against the rough
Hard bark of a trunk?
The screen steals our eyes
And the other senses
Wither

Image from Pixabay

 #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Where the White Wolves Dance

By Scott Bailey © 2014

A ring of solid light
Hovers just above the ground
Spinning with infinity
Casts glamour all around
This is
Where the white wolves dance

It is said the be the child
Of the seed of forbidden fruit
Born from secret knowledge
Found on a hidden a hidden route
Around it
The white wolves still dance

The colour pulses wild
Blue, silver and pure white
Dragging hearts round and round
Beneath the starlit night
And so
On the white wolves dance

In a time-worn trench, they dance
Circling below the light
So deep the light they cannot see
The circle is out of sight
Yet still
On the white wolves dance

The circle has been burnt
Into their very eyes
So while the dark wolf dreams
And while the dear time flies
Onwards
The white wolves dance.

So high upon their mountain
On an island on a lake
Isolated and secure from
The world they do forsake
This is
Where the white wolves dance

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Drag

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk