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The Art Dealer

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  THE ART DEALER  This is ‘Bob Able.’ He is a man of modest means and has been a freelance artist for most of his life. The only time he was in paid employment when he used to work part time at the art college in Derby, passing his knowledge and skill on to his students. Bob has a small cottage in the village of Naresborough, on the edge of town, which he shares with his wife, Mabel. Every Christmas he loves nothing more than to play Santa in a grotto at a shopping centre in Derby. He has a lot of time for children, especially as he and Mabel were never blessed with any of their own. Growing up he had an older sister, Olive, now in her eighties. She lives locally and comes round every Sunday for lunch.   After eating they like nothing more than to take a stroll down to the village pond to feed the ducks.   Bob likes to keep fit and active and doesn’t relish the prospect of getting older. He is now 74 and the only real health issue. He has a touch of arthr...
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12 Noon - A collection of events

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  Twelve noon and someone completely unexpected arrives:  It is the year 2323. I was sitting at my workplace, the company was Cyber Technology. I was starting a new project on brain expansion. This would double our senses by fifty per cent. Imgine what we would be able to achieve. It was my job to find out. I had just finished a programme on life matter to see how we could create someone and bring them back to life with mixed DNA. This was done with families who had lost someone too young to go.  The programme was a success but I had done my bit of technology and passed it onto the next team of experts who put it all together. That work was completed about eight months ago.  I had my head down and I was being busy. It must have been 12 noon. There was a knock on the door. Usually, people knocked and just came in but I had to get up and answer the door. What a surprise, the head of the company had come to talk about something very close to my heart.  He asked how...
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A Slow Stroll

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  Taking a slow stroll to a peaceful place going with the flow of where my steps take me feeling lost but in a good way as I am on this beautiful world where there's light and wildlife,  nature and streams of water. And the clouds in the sky with the sunlight beaming through the hills I see roses and plants,  rabbits and wildlife and the land is all around me living in a moment feeling like I'm lost in the game of Skyrim walking further into the depths of the forest surrounded by trees and castles feeling the best I can be with my mindset feeling free. Tyson
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A Tree Memory

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  A long while ago when I used to live with my mum and Dave, my sister in Ormesby near Yarmouth, we had a big garden with hedges and trees.  I liked climbing them and hiding in the hedges where no one could find me because it was my own place (my self place) where I could think.  Sometimes, I liked climbing trees and siting under them to think about things. Now, I live in Great Yarmouth. You can't think so much as I did but when I had a dog called Pebbles, I walked miles and that makes you think. That was my space as well. In the absence of trees, there aren't any in Yarmouth, there was always my dog.  Cathy
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A Letter of Thanks

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  Thank you my friends. Thank you for giving all of us what we need to live. Thank you for the things we need to eat. Thank you for keeping me warm, Thank you for keeping me cool. Thank you for your beauty. Thank you for holding me as a child, for being a place to meet and sometimes to get lost.  We even named some of you, you know so much fun we had together. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've not seen you enough.  I've seen you but I've not spend time with you.  I hope I do soon. You are worth more than gold. You're even waving at me every time I see you from afar. You are an amazing friend, provider. All my love, Daniel.
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Poetic Experiments at Jason's Place of Possibility

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  An experimental group poetry experience - courtesy of Jason Parr - some of the results are below: One serious person laughed up on a laptop screen - already taken 3 years - still waiting, contemplating an empty cupboard by the seashore in the sand dunes.  Two legs walking through ahes, hot embers flashing, burning. The dead Toreador loses spark and sense, tomorrow is at an end.  Three weeks in one dash camera - all the last touches for the better effect of a picture frame depicting a man and his many inventions, in the garden, in the sunshine.  Four days before the Easter eggs were scrambled, chicks roasted, his brother came to visit him, bringing popcorn. The microwave went on and a number of years passed fuill of a wonderful grace and dinners.  The winding tree, Simon with camouflage and the beauty of spring singing from beneath. On the sunny side of the green, the lady stands proud. A flash of red amidst the green trying to make out what you have seen. T...
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A cool morning in April - Noticing

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  I see the sea, I see a strip club, I see a pier, I see a hut, I see a dog, says Dave. NOTICING The sky is almost void of cloud, vapour trails follow three planes silently in flight. The sun is glistening on a calm sea. Britannia Pier is deserted and sleeping, The cool sea breezde turns the silent wind turbines. All of a sudden, a crowd of people come round the corner, you can hear the people chatting and the sound of baby buggies being pushed.  A lady sits ion the beach, watching her little boy with his bucket and spade, playing in the sand.  Council men are working in the toilets and there is a fleeting aroma of chemicals.  Alan The wind mills in the sea - flowing to the wind turbines a mile offshore, moving from West to East - a golden beach stretches for miles with some tiny sand dunes. The Deck Chair house is not open which is weird on a day like this with the sun blazing.  Behind me people prepare for a game of bowls on lush green grass. The quietness of ...
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