Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Purple Eye

By Scott Bailey © 2014

From the purple eye of death
The last exhaled breath
Comes an aweful doom
And darkness starts to loom

It dims the roads once bright
Quenches golden light
Sends tremors through the land
Like my trembling hand

Trembling on the key
That sets the danger free
Releasing purging fire
Born from grief and ire

Fear will bring the dark
And there is no lighted ark
So hide your fears away
Until the final day

In response to the daily prompt Purple

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Purple Star

Purple Star

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Deep bright purple star.
Piercing from the depths of roiling blue gas clouds
And a million billion stars
Outshining Venus and Mars
Swathes like silver​ paths
Some gathered in spiral wheels
And between them in the sparse dark spaces
Ships blink and travel on by.
A memory from the deepest well of childhood.
A memory that could not have been.

In response to the daily prompt Purple

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Wrong Things

Wrong Things

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Perfect thighs
Perfect abs
Perfect eyes
For perfect lives
We give our teens
Aspirational dreams
Of fame and fortune
Imaginary screens
And every flick of every light
Every glossy page so bright
Every song of every type
Every ad with teeth so white
Every billboard, every bus
Every website we like or plus
Every search and every text
Every life that we connect
Every meal and every drink
Every label phrased succinct
The many many many times
Perfect views assault our eyes
Programming the soft and greying minds
To covet
The wrong things
So much effort
Is required
For those minds
Are really wired
With the truth

 

In response to the daily prompt Label

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Short Stories, Writing

The Man in the Meadow

By Scott Bailey 2017

She had brought it on a whim at a garage sale. The woman who sold it had practically thrown it at her when she enquired, took only 50p. With bloodshot eyes, she spat the tale.

“She must have brought it for him! I have never seen before.”

She, it turned out, was some mysterious floors who had apparently stolen her husband. He had disappeared one night leaving everything behind. His wife had found the picture hanging in his study. She assumed it was from him.

Now it hung in Suzanne’s hall. As she looked at it in greater detail it did not seem a likely love gift.

It was a simple landscape.  A green field of swaying grass and in the distance a lonely figure. A man she thought but there was no telling why.

A simple image but compelling. The nuances of the colour were subtle and like like. She could almost feel the grass swaying. She wondered where the man was walking to. He seemed to be disappearing into the horizon.

A simple picture that had drawn her eye from the moment she saw it.

And so it continued to. As she went about her daily business she kept passing by and stopping to appreciate her new find.

In fact, she realised that she was finding the least excuse to pass that way more and more often. She laughed at herself. What a silly obsession!

But she did not stop.

Finally, she went to bed.

She could not sleep. The picture played on her mind. There was something about it. Something she was not seeing. There must be some subliminal symbol or hidden message that was trying to call out to her.

She tried to ignore it and get to sleep.

She could not.

There was something about the picture!

Something wrong.

She got out of bed. Went back down to the hall and stared at it.

It was mesmerising. The brush strokes were so fantastically real.  Had she stumbled on some forgotten or lost masterpiece? The grass almost seemed to be moving, rippling like water in the wind.

No! It was moving! And the figure, the man. He was closer! Holding out his hand in invitation….


He had not noticed the picture in the catalogue. But now, here in the auction room, it drew him. The fact that it was from the house clearance of a mysteriously missing woman somehow added to his desire for it. It seemed to have no worth. It was described simply as “Man and Woman in Grassy Meadow”. Artist unknown.

He had to have it!

He would pay dearly for it!

 

In response to the daily prompt Nuance

 

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Future

By Scott Bailey 2017

I ruminate on my future
I have grown weary
My skills and senses
Blunted
A plough driven too long

I must change
Or something must change
Nervous
I must arise again
Be alive again
Feed!

 

In response to the daily prompts Ruminate

And

Nervous

As I was too ill to complete it yesterday.

#DailyPrompt

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Short Stories, Writing

The Green Wizard

By Scott Bailey 2006

I cannot believe this! If anyone were to stop them, this mob of hungry hunters raging through the forest, then nobody would believe the explanation.

The people of the village, the county planners, the farmers, the surveyors, the members of the RSPB, all are hunting in the night. They are hunting the Green Wizard.

What will they do when they catch him? The question fills me with fear.

What will he do?

I feel responsible. It was my decision. I weighed up all the considerations and reached the verdict.

Whatever choice I made would be opposed. The conservationists urged me to leave the forest alone. Those who favoured progress wanted the forest managed and great tracts of it grubbed out for profit.

I should be used to this. I was brought up in the country and we learned to live with threats.

And I had made this kind of decision for years now. I was used to angry crowds. How could they know that I felt their anger and pain? I always found the best compromise.

Unfortunately this often hurt the countryside.

What had gone wrong this time?

The Green Wizard, that was what. Ever since I set eyes on him I have sailed seas of madness and now dragged the entire community with me.

Last night I saw him. I was wandering in the evening light near the edges of the forest trying to make my decision. I wasn’t sure that this old forest would benefit or even survive having its heart grubbed out. But the village that nestled twinkling below the forest needed fresh hope. The industry this would bring might make a crucial difference.

Then I saw it! A green light bobbing between the trees. At first I thought it was a firework for it had that bright magical quality. It was an artificial green like the glass baubles of a Christmas tree. It drew my heart towards it.

I walked in, my fear disappearing as I entered the solace and safety of the trees.

Darkness fell completely as the sun sank but the green light bobbed before me and led the way.

It must be a willow-the-wisp I half told myself but its beauty was far too potent to resist.

I came to a clearing and then I saw that the light was a flame flickering on top of a staff held by an old man. He was dressed in a green robe that shone as bright as the flame, with the same entrancing shade. He looked the way that all wizards look in story books. Wide brimmed, pointed hat, long beard.

Only his beard was green. He was the Green Wizard.

He beckoned me towards him but when I got a few feet he held up his hand and I felt a force block me. I felt the full potential of his strength in that strange touch. He could have crushed me with a thought.

“The forest must not die.”

His voice was deep and strong, trusty as oak and full of command!

I nodded.

“There is life here,” he went on, “that is beyond the comprehension of your people. It is vital to the power of the earth in ways you cannot understand. It will not lie idle any longer. If you threaten, it will react.”

“Who are you?” my voice a scared noise in the sudden immensity and darkness of this forest.

“I am the life of this forest! I am the power of the earth!”

I nodded again.

“An agreement is reached!” he boomed. “If you break your bond your life will be forfeit.”

Suddenly something moved in the leaves. I whirled around and a fox bolted across the clearing. All around the clearing the bushes suddenly rustled and shook with life. I spun trying to see what made the noises. There was nothing.

It stopped. The only sound was my panting breath.

It was dark. The Green Wizard was gone.

I thought I had imagined him but I saw a flicker of green, like a warning, away in the trees.

I knew then what I had to do. I had made a bargain. My life was forfeit if I did not make the right decision now.

All my doubts of mad hallucinations disappeared then. The Green Wizard was real.

The next day those concerned gathered at the village hall and listened to my decision. It went badly. Not surprising.

I had some support. The conservationists were pleased with the verdict. Their precious forest would be left to its natural state.

But most of those gathered were business men and farmers whose livelihoods were at stake. They were not going to let some upstart in a suit take that away.

I lost my nerve. I couldn’t meet their arguments. Every reason I put forward for the conservation of the forest they pulled to pieces. I cursed the Green Wizard for abandoning me to this. Where was he now that I was fighting his battle?

Finally I had nothing left. I declared that the forest would be saved. They would not relent. They wanted to know why I had made this decision when I had no argument to support it. They pushed and pushed me until I could stand it no longer.

I told them about the Green Wizard. I warned them of the danger.

The whole hall was silenced. Even my supporters looked at me, trying to fathom out the madness that appeared to have seized me.

Finally one of the farmers said it.

“He’s mad! Or on drugs!”

I bowed my head. Where was this going to lead?

“This is a farce!” said another voice but the everyone suddenly gasped and fell silent again.

I looked up.

There hovering in front of me was a small globe of bright green light!

I stared at it. What did it mean? It was obviously from the Wizard. It was his shade of green, vivid, unforgettable, alluring and dangerous like something was burning that should never have been set alight.

“Is this some sort of gimmick!?” said one of the farmers.

The globe of light rushed straight at him and knocked him off his feet in a shower of sparks. Then it stayed where it was, where it had hit him.

The farmer slid back across the floor and hit his head against the far wall with a crack. Blood flowed immediately. People rushed to his aid. Others turned to me.

“If he’s dead you had better pray that the police get here quick before we’re finished with you!”

They all suddenly looked ugly. I feared for my life and wondered if this is what the green Wizard had meant. Had I failed some kind of test? Had I been chosen to champion the forest and failed?

“Look!” A young girl was standing by the window pointing up to the forest. People stared out and piled from the hall. I followed.

There, high on the hill, the whole forest was alight from within with the strange green glow.

“It’s the Green Wizard.” I said.

“More likely some new age travellers who don’t want their peace disturbed by the idea of having to pay their way like the rest of us.”

At that point the green globe suddenly shot out of the window, through the glass without breaking it. At impossible speed it shot into the heart of the forest.

By now people were muttering things about ghosts and UFO’s but the main core of farmers and businessmen were having none of it. They decided to go and find out for themselves.

I followed the frenzied crowd that raced up the hill to the entrance of the forest. I felt drawn, whether by them or the forest I don’t know.

At the entrance stood the Wizard. Tall and menacing but only I had felt the touch of his power.

“Do not touch this forest,” he said but he sounded somehow weary.

“Who the hell are you?” someone called out.

“He’s the Green Wizard,” I replied feebly but was ignored.

“You can’t tell us what to do with our forest!” someone else yelled at the figure.

“We don’t need freaks like you dossing on our land.”

“If you want to remove me then you will have to catch me!” he sneered. With that he turned and disappeared quickly into the trees. The flame of his staff was still visible.

With a yell the villagers set after him. they became a pack of hungry wolves after their prey. Their eyes burned with fury.

I yelled after them, warning them not to go. They did not listen. Helpless I followed in their wake.

They crashed through the trees and the undergrowth picking up sticks and waving them as they went.

And even now as I follow them I find it hard to believe.

I fear the outcome of this but I am not sure who I fear for most. This horde is wild and out of control. If they catch him I would not be surprised if they tore him limb from limb with their bare hands.

But I have felt the power of the Green Wizard.

Suddenly we are before him. There he stands. Like an old man, weary with the chase, leaning on his staff in the middle of the clearing.

The mob grab him. Their fury somewhat dampened by his appearance but not quenched. They bind him. The rope is tight around his arms but he does not struggle. As the villagers dance around him like demented witches he holds my gaze with an accusing stare.

The dancing goes on and on like a frenzy but slowly people drop. They sit and lie on the ground, tired by the night’s activity. Despite the Wizard’s relentless stare I too sink to the ground. Around me people are falling asleep and I find I cannot resist the need to join them.

 

I awake to find myself choking. Something has hold of my throat and is strangling me. I can’t breathe.

All around me are bodies. All held by tree roots or thorny vines! Some struggle feebly for others it is too late. Many are being dragged into the earth by the irresistible power of trees.

The Green Wizard stands watching the process with a blank expression. His ropes lay on the ground, snapped and frayed.

He turns his back on me, not even deigning to notice my dying breath.

I tried. I did try.

 

The End

 

In response to the daily prompt Vivid

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

What Ifs

What Ifs

By Scott Bailey © 2014

What ifs hang on
Like poisoned barbs
Even in the face of reality
All reason tells you
Let them go
Rip them from the flesh
Yet deep they go
Sharp their points
Beyond the anaesthetic
Of mere words
So rise up
From the river
Of doubt
Rip that flesh and bleed
Step on the shore of tomorrow
Healing first needs hurt

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

In response to the daily prompt Doubt

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Posted in Daily Prompt, General, Poetry, Writing

Moments

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Agree to Disagree.”

Tenuous but this is what my mind came up with.

Moments

 By Scott Bailey © 2015

The world clashes with me
Or I with it
Its movie reel passes before me
And I watch
Observe
But I am not of it
Occasionally
I brushes me
Pricks me
Interrupts my view
My observations
And the things I should enjoy
I don’t
Until I can observe them
Again one day
My moments pass
Slipping
I can never seem
To be in them

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Jiggling Jogger

By Scott Bailey 2017

A jogger passes by
In her tight lycra
And my eye is drawn
To the jiggle
DON’T LOOK! DON’T LOOK!
I am a modern man!
I am.
Generations of sin
Drop their guilt and shame
On our ill equipped shoulders
A modern man

 

In response to the daily prompt Jiggle

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Posted in Daily Prompt, Fiction, Short Stories, Writing

Devastation

By Scott Bailey 2017

By Francisco Sanchis Cortés (Music at an exhibition) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
By Francisco Sanchis Cortés (Music at an exhibition) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons
The God of War awoke. Stirred from his long slumber and stretched. He gave a few swings of his hammer and yawned.
“This is it!” His voice rolled through the thunder clouds like a promise.
His minions had had their fun while he slept. Keeping the family business running so to speak.
That was over. The was The War. The Big One.
Those puny little tyrants and heroes would not know what hit them.
The God of War flexed his neck, rolled his head and shook the sleep from his long, flowing hair.
Lightning gleamed dully in his armour.
He looked to his left, to his right. Stretching out on either side were the flanks of his sisters. Mounted – their wings shining in the rain.
The God of War raised his hammer and with a mighty swoop bore it down on the earth.
Lighting smashed open the clouds and unleashed hell.
People were confused. Thrown off their kilter. They could not understand the petty battles, the conflict after conflict. No one seemed able to stop them. No one seemed to care.
The rich and powerful holed up with their gold. The poor were starved and eaten.
The God of War kept at it. Smiling with fury. This was his purpose, his being, his goal. His end.
So confused and fearful the people did not see, the chances they had slip away. The weapons they might use be consumed by war.
While the battles raged the earth burned. And burned and burned. The forests turned to ash and cities fell. The seas boiled away.
Beyond repair, this was the final battle.
After the long age of suffering the God of War surveyed the devastation with satisfaction. He had won. Nothing survived. The earth was too warm for life, nothing breathed.
He had won. And so now he burned with the earth. Raised his arms in fury and triumph in his final pyre.
With no players, there was no more war.
Peace descended. The earth would rest in it until the end.

In response to the daily prompt Devastation

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Happy Family

By Scott Bailey 2014

And then
After an hours silence
He warms our heart
With a carefully crafted picture
Mummy in a tutu
Daddy very tall
Then himself dancing
And his new baby brother – coming soon
And Lucas up in the sky
Looking down from heaven
Not your average family
But happy

 

In response to the daily prompt Baby

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Glitter

By Scott Bailey 2017

The glitterati glitter
While the paparazzi pack
Lines full of lies and libel
To shore up the moral we lack
The world wide web weaves wonders
Hyperlinks hypnotise
The people they rage and thunder
Swallowing all of the lies
So watch the things that glisten
Watch the lustre and shine
And remember that nobody listens
Any of the time

 

In response to the daily prompt Glitter

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Posted in Daily Prompt, General, Poetry, Writing

Wide Water Wash

An old one as it’s been an eventful weekend to say the least.

Wide Water Wash

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Wide, water wash
Grey beneath the early morning mist
Chance sunbeams bounce and sparkle
River banks lost and blurred
Returning to their ancient ways
Unbound from man’s constraint
A gentle reminder of the eventual winner
Water wandering where it will
Free and unordered
Rolling seeping or swelling to the sea
Grasses, shrubs and tree swimming
Mirrored in their sudden still lakes
Expanding

In response to the daily prompt Blur

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Sound Box

Busy with a new project but found a few old ones that fit today’s theme.

By Scott Bailey 2013

There are empty spaces
left as people move on,
of the spaces of places long gone,
of times gone by

There is a link between present and past
an energy, a potential,
strung between the memories gone
and the living yet to roll on

The link hums with the tension
and the empty spaces echo back the thrum
deep rich reverberation
layered on the past, the present, the future

Such is the music of life.

 

In response to the daily prompt Sound

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Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Sound Of

Busy with a new project but found a few old ones that fit today’s theme.

By Scott Bailey 2013

So we worry like old men
On the road to night again
Wondering what the dawn will bring
Will we hear the lonely blackbird sing
And then the heart beats a skip once more
as our dreams falter

Complex systems crowd our minds
Light penetrating through the blinds
Nowhere safe to settle down our thoughts
No reprise to high ethereal courts
And so we close our eyes to the blinding light
and slowly we falter

Solid waters chills our bones
Sitting in the orange cones
Going nowhere on this winding road
Never understanding the blinking code
So we ride on ignorance and bliss
and never alter

 

In response to the daily prompt Sound

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