50 Word Stories: flame of love


Though her beauty spoke to his eyes, only the gentleness of her heart could pry open the vast cavern of love that now sought to devour her every word,… her every glance and touch. Realising what he felt was beyond what lustful passion alone could kindle, he hungered for more.

yours for the asking?


Is it truly ours
for the asking?
In our ignorance
we claim to know
so much and yet
beyond the mist
that confounds reason
sits unclaimed answers
impatiently awaiting untainted
questions to be posed.

for every question
an answer is
compelled to flow,
but where it goes,
what it shows,
is often found
to be more baffling
than that sort
by its inception.

Much time is often
lost through missed
phrased words
that speak
with imprecision
to the precise,
only to discover that
the language used
could not bear to
speak to reason.

50 Word Stories: Love Calls


Though her steps were barely audible, in the silence of night, love announced itself. With the flicker of candles, her bright passionate eyes suddenly inflamed to reveal a longing that called across the ocean of darkness; offering such warmth that the chill night air only served to hasten their embrace.



What of heroes? Do they not feel fear when witnessing fate’s harsh blow? Often the truth is more mundane, for theirs is the will to act in the most selfish of ways; driven as they are to live with conscience clear they leave others of lesser virtues to endure regret.

For “Heroes,” forever tethered to righteous call, are by their nature, predisposed to still nervous hearts and to act when others, overwhelmed by hesitation brought on by senses, merely gaze. Blessed with spirit lifted towards hope, brandishing a will and a way, alone they stand as giants above all others.

For Pluto`s sake



Far from light but not
How thoughts drift
Ever closer
To Pluto’s breath;
Whose lineage
Do in starlight
Share much secrets
Of our darkest days
And bitter cold nights.

Condemned by mortals,
Gripped by unclear
How the mighty
Has fallen;
Forbidden to
Share Godly fame
With Jupiter
And now to be considered
A mere sibling cur.

If only Proserpina
Could once more warm
Pluto’s darkened heart
And touch men
To see more substance;
Would they not then
See his true worth raised
Once more to fair status?
Allowing him to spin
Amongst glad planets.

Much joy would it bring
To nostalgic hearts
To hear Pluto spoken
No longer as a mere thing
Caught in Sol’s true light;
A dwarf amongst giants
Stripped of dignity by
Confounding words
That with season move
To fit a rigid frame.

change of fortune


It takes but a single day
to change the fortunes of men.
How the haunted often struggle
as they hide in shame
in a shadow of their own making;
sagely counting irreversible steps
in the hope of retracing, in a haphazard way,
the path that drew them to their folly.

While with the toss of a coin,
the fortunate are seen to bask in radiant light.
Blessed never to endure the indignity
that others face in ill-fated winds.
With head held high, they often stride
with joyful poise to be elevated
by the unearthly status granted
by admiration and envy.



My wound
is not
framed in
light but
holed in
What bleeds
from mortal
bodies is
but sympathy
for what
truly ails
the soul,
mournful sob
and tears
is fated
to remain
silent to
the world;
pouring instead
to fill
nightmarish dreams
by the constant
of regrets,
that refuse to
That won’t
the cool
comforting breeze
of a warm
summer’s day.

50 Word Stories: Political Prisoner


The many years of solitude, burdened by loss, now spoke with words long buried by time. His every gesture, though heavy and awkward, said more about health than about the proud defiant features that found the strength to cast shadows on those who sought to muffle the voice of reason

50 Word Stories: Death’s blade


Never has death been dealt so brutally. If this cold blade could talk, hearts would weep hearing the ruthless chatter emanating from its tarnished sheen, that cared not for the blood of vanquished souls, whose stain even now dared not linger less they share blame for fouler deeds to come.

50 Word stories: Touched by fate


Inspired by reading Richard Ankers’ writings, I’ve decided to try my hands at the 50 Word Stories, hoping to further develop my writing skills.

Torn between worlds, the eye of fate now turns to admire the long forgotten landscapes etched by time; only to be appalled by the future’s determination to cling with futility to the wilderness of opportunities that, for good or bad, had been set aside to cast shadows on another life.

Hope is everywhere


enough of dark thoughts
for shadows and
night never last!

for even the vastness
of space is never
dark for too long

darkness is but
a canvass
there only to accompany light

whose moments
come as waves
even on forgotten shores

there to bestow
awareness of beauty
waiting to be found

to draw attention to salvation
hidden at every corner
of despair



even a world
spun out of the
purest silk
adorned with
the most precious
of stones can
be shattered
by a summer wind
whose ill temper
cares not for
the promises
of spring

misfortune comes
to bring
fate’s heartless blade
to slice and dice
by endless cuts
the body
of meaningful
whose hasty
it forestalls

the storm
that chaos brings
is swift
turning day to night
with but a moment
arriving as cold
as a daggered hand
to reap havoc on
on a well made bed
once shaped
to invite comfort
– now, no more –