Worthing Flash

They were both prisoners of their minds. “ You don’t have to be a solo driver”, she said to him, Hoping to lighten his heart. He claimed it had the desired effect - At least some of the time. Both of them bore battle scars. Soldiers in the field, they stood shoulder to shoulder, Facing the same way – a cold wind blew As they stood staring into the midday sun Just after that last eclipse. He reassured her fears with his constant words – And a miniature universe was born. The phone lines between them were clear; No crackle, no static. Except for on one occasion When he was speaking and she could not hear his voice – Which was disturbing. She admired his tenacity - He kept on trying to get through. She made a map, and he stuck coloured pins on it, Markers to mark where they had been, And also where they were going. They could not see the edge of the map. He told her he wanted to be a land surveyor So sh...

‘I don’t knock myself out’ he said. ‘Mostly I just tinker.’ He was at it for six months. The wharf was a monolith - a construction made of wood and plastic that jutted out into the water. My father is an engineer - the wharf bore the hallmarks of his design. It floats upon the water - And will float there after his death, A momento. It’s something for his grandchildren to play on or dive off if they are game enough into the murky waters down, down, into the tangled weeds. It’s an entity for the ducks to perch on squawking to each other in their own special language duck-speak, unintelligible to the human ear. My father takes pride in the wharf It’s a retirement achievement A man needs hobbies To keep himself busy We all know what happens To idle hands Heaven forbid The devil should take his At this stage of life. I made a special trip to the family farm to see the wharf to find inspiration for this poem. ...

This is the first poem in #worthingflash and it is written by Laura Solomon You have to be dead to be invited to this party. As is to be expected, all the stars are here. Janis, Marilyn, Jesus. There are ordinary people too though. Kevin Watson who died of a blood clot to the brain shortly after his 40th birthday. He’s been resurrected. Now he’s partying in the corner – he’s put himself in charge of the music and is playing Nirvana as Cobain toys with a segment of his blown-off head. Other run-of-the-mill folk present? Jimmy Molesworth who hung himself and is now hitting on Janis Joplin who is oblivious to the attention, dancing wildly to Come As You Are a whisky bottle clutched tightly in her right hand. Jimmy’s still got rope marks around his neck. There’s Cindy Rutherford who was hit by a car while simultaneously cycling and listening to her iPod. Not a good combination. She’s got splinters of glass from the windscreen embedded in her face. Mari...