MINIWords

This set of odds and sods was written for a competition called MINIwords. I recall there was a strict word limit for each category (of which there were things like haiku, potted biography and poetry). Needless to say, I worked on them scrupulously, coming up with loads of material but coming away unsuccessful. I haven't looked at them since.

But when I look back at this work, which I have absolutely no recollection of, I'm startled by their craft. The poetry in particular really impresses me considering I'm much happier working with prose. I've put these up out of surprise because I think I ought to be prouder of my attempts at other avenues.

Haiku

White shirt, evening out
A push, the table goes over
I need the receipt.

Goal scored, crowd goes wild
Away trip ends with success
Scarves hidden from thugs.

Inspiration gone
All ideas hide from view
Type anything, you fool!

Computer shutdown
Small chip in machine burnt out
Sunday, shops all closed.

Is God in heaven?
Does Satan reside in hell?

Will they ever meet?

Poetry

Thunder Road

I dream of racing away
Along my very own Thunder Road.
Wind rustles my hair by the side of the bay
I keep it inside – all mine, not for show.

The Oxford Don

The elderly and scholarly Oxford don
Finds himself loved by everyone
Except for those famous Cambridge sons
Who snort behind the back of the Oxford don.

A Black Tie Affair

A black tie affair, I found myself in a dream
I found you alone; a miracle, it seemed.
When I look back at the time we had together
I spent most of it at the end of my tether.

Stories

There were seven of us. We didn’t have a clue what we were doing here, or where we were going. He grabbed the atlas and flagged down a car, telling us to stay here. We were all exhausted. After all, it’s a long walk up that hill from St. Ives.

Cardboard boxes exploded as the Cortina rounded the corner into the alley. They could hear gunshots as they kept up the pursuit. There was a giant skid, then a crunching sound. Smoke poured from the bonnet. ‘Cut!’ shouted the director in exasperation, as the actors brushed themselves down.

Smiling as she took the bake from the oven, she wondered what her husband would think. He never wanted to try anything new. He’d get a surprise when he sat down for his dinner, turned on the TV and saw her on that cookery programme he liked to watch.

Monologues

   I found myself working in this game completely by accident, you know. I’m not a great actor, you know. I’ll admit it. That bloke over there can knock the spots off of me, and I can’t seem to shift this accent. But I’ve got great energy and charisma, you see, and that can take you a long way in the acting world.
   There ought to be more people like me on the box, let me tell you. The amount of people that come up to me in the street and say “Here, mate, we flippin’ love you…”
But will they listen? Will those telly people take a chance? Not on your life. Anyway, must stop yakking. Just let me get this open, will ya? And the award for Best Actor goes to…

Jesus Christ, pass the frigger, will you? I don’t know why I watch this bloody team, really I don’t. Waste of time, waste of money. I’m not getting any younger, you know! Gah…he’s a disgrace, get him off ref! Fifty grand a week and you can’t even head the bloody ball!
   Still, there’s nothing like it, is there? The atmosphere, the buzz of the crowd, the anticipation…waiting for that one perfect moment, when an athlete at the peak of his physical performance can conjure something magic…And the great thing about watching it on telly is that I don’t have to battle the traffic on the way home.

   We spent a memorable day on the sands, talking, laughing, joking. Under that hot sun I told her I loved her, and she wept with joy. Even me, even though I haven’t cried since skinned knees and bad tests, let the tears flow. It couldn’t have been any more perfect, that one golden day on the coast.
   Now, when I find myself recalling those hours of perfection, I wonder to myself if it all really happened like that, as it seems from a dream state; nothing concrete. She went out of my life a long time ago, and all those arguments and conflicts rose within us like a dormant volcano. But we’ll always have the sea to wash away the bad times.

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