Life Surfing by Daphne jaaback

I surfed the crest

It was my best

The sun shone down

Like a glittering crown


That far flung beach

Just out of reach

Called to me

Of a life to be


Distracted for a moment

I felt a crushing torrent

A silent second wave

Tried my body to enslave


Twisted like a rag in a washing machine

I was brought back to life by a power supreme

Bruised and battered, carried back to shore

Determined, empowered, to surf evermore

A Smooth Transition by Daphne Jaaback



Two fit members

Of the same team

In a race of life

Passing the baton

First runner tripped

His heart gave in

He gasped “carry on”’

Number two ran on

The baton secured


The baton am I

Safe in the hands

Of one who has travelled

A similar road

To my first betrothed

Little time left

But this lap of the race

Holds all the promise

Of joy and happiness.

Tweet by Corinna Turner

For thee and me,
Us two – we.
Just look back and see
The life we’ve lived – thee and me,
So much we’ve seen and still to see,
No question of to be or not to be
We two; do others see?
No, only thee and me.

A Patchwork Quilt by Daphne Jaaback

My life is like a patchwork quilt

Each patch has a link with a life experience

Colours blend or sharply contrast

Highlighting friends , both past and present

If a patch frays through wear and age

A new one is created to take its place

Care is taken to maintain a link

So that the quilt maintains its strength

Signal Corps Survivors by Daphne Jaaback

In a war situation

To bolster the nation

Signallers  four

With no room for more

Boarded a plane

To recce terrain

A radio relay

Was need of the day


Airborne too soon

A hump called the tune

Airspeed not sound

To clear ridge of ground

Pilot made change

Over  tree range

Aircraft descended

Gravity  intended


Branches tore wings

But cushioned most things

A punch to jammed door

And the whole frame tore

All four walked away

To live another day

Small Town Mentality (100 word fast fiction) by Bob McMahon





My destination was Welton Tor Hill, a remote town in northern Scotland. I was travelling by train to investigate the Maguire’s – a family gripped by small town mentality. Their fear of living. Their fear of dying.  Haunted by good and evil. Their minds clamped by some invisible phenomena. The children suffering from past deeds and future visions.


As we approached the station the train started to lose momentum.  I could have sworn the station sign said ‘Welcome to Hell’


Couldn’t be.


This was Welton Tor Hill.


Was my mind being manipulated, just like the minds of the Maguire family?

No Laughing Matter by Daphne Jaaback

Non arboreal

And cursorial

Sometimes spotty

Even stripey

Using jaws

And not its claws

To consume its prey

Just straight away


Very vocal

Local yokel

Whines and moans

Giggles and groans

Nothing meaner

Than hyena

Turning sharply

Active nightly


The heat of day

Not passed away

Made tourist decide

To sleep outside

She awoke to a smell

And had visions of hell

The crunching of bone

She found was her own


A scream erupted

Her face corrupted

Help came quickly

To a scene so sickly

Hyena seen running

Grunting and laughing

Tourist air lifted

For face to be treated

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