Staring up, beyond the confines of my yard
Up into the sky, so wide and blue
Paws poised
Ears and eyes alert
Ready to run, jump, fly!
Don’t try to stop me, no…
On I go,
Go, Superdog, Go!
(At least, that’s what I think he’s thinking)
Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #88 photo prompt.
Image credit: Elias Castillo @ Unsplash
The image shows a dog wearing a shirt with “Superman” logo on it. There is a cape flowing from the back of the T- shirt.
It’s half the way through the year already, can you believe it? Almost the end of June and it’s wet and wintry here, and while many of you are enjoying your ‘summer reading’ and I thought I’d share what I’ve been reading this year. I love to read almost as much as I love to write, and I firmly believe that the more good writing I read, the more my own writing improves.
Last year I did the ArmedWithABingo year-long reading challenge hosted by Kriti Khare & Ariel Joy which was great fun, and which encouraged my to read a few books that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise picked up. But this year I’m on a ‘free choice’ foray, guided mostly by some great reviews I’ve read by some great reviewers here in our WordPress family, who’ve wickedly tempted me to augment my already tottering ‘TBR’ pile way beyond normal safety parameters.
I’ve also over-stuffed my book shelves with piles of pre-loved books from our local indie book stores.
However, I must confess to my shame that I haven’t been to our lovely local library for ages. I really should, even though under lockdown regulations you can only spend half an hour at a time there. Before Covid, I used to go to write there sometimes since being surrounded by all those books was rather inspiring (and it’s lovely and warm in winter).
Anyway, enough rambling. Here’s what I’ve read so far this year.
I’ve had a most enjoyable half-year’s reading: a mixture of old books and new, prose and poetry, even a cookery book. I’ve continued to honour my resolve to read more books from the southern hemisphere, especially by African writers, as I feel authors down here don’t get the exposure they should.
As a writer I know how exciting it is to receive a review from a reader, and I offer a big, big thank you to all of my readers who’ve taken the time and trouble to rate/review my books, although to know someone has read one of my books is even enough.
I faithfully post a review of the books I’ve read on Goodreads and usually on Bookbub, so long as the book comes up in a search. You can find all of my reviews here on Goodreads.
As for the next half of the year, I did promise myself not to buy any more books until I’d made a proper dent in the tottering TBR pile, but there’s a sale at Bookworms tomorrow, and I have to support the store which carries copies of my own books, don’t I?
Happy reading folks!
As the sun’s pink fingertips caress the tops of the purple mountains behind the cave, Owab is the first of the hunters to wake. Aquila waiting for him outside. The eagle bows and turns to the east, where a procession of wispy clouds rises with the dawn. Aquila takes to the air and Owab, in the thrall of his night-time vision, follows where his guide and protector leads.
When they return, Owab is leading a long-legged rain-cow which will bring soft raindrops to last a whole season.
The Great Bull bellows
rain swells the gathering clouds:
the parched land awaits.
This concludes my little African adventure, although I wouldn’t rule out a comeback for Owab and Aquila sometime in the future. You can find the previous episodes here.
Photo credit: John Fowler at unsplash.com/@wildhoney
Written in response to two challenges:
– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – WISP, CARESS, FINGERTIPS
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – SEASON
I also set myself the additional challenges of confining my piece to 100 words exactly and writing in the haibun form. Just for fun!
Read more Six Sentence Stories here at the Link Up Party!
Reach out! Reach up!
Climb the highest height
Follow your dreams
Let hope give you wings
Be brave, be bold, be strong!
Look to a new day
A bright not a blue day
Stand straight, walk tall, be you
For you are unique, you burn so bright
You, the wonderful you!
Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #87 photo prompt.
Image credit: Dakota Corbin @ Unsplash
The image shows a wall decorated by splashes of colour. There are outlined sketches of two hands on the wall. Above the decorations, the words “The best gift is you” are written. A woman can be seen walking a baby in a stroller in the front.
Welcome to the latest stop on our literary tour through the pages of my novels. This week we’ll taking a pleasant drive from my home town to the little fictional town on the West Coast of South Africa to meet the characters from Song of the Sea Goddess who were so much fun to write about. The ladies are loosely based on some of the people whom I met when I arrived in Somerset West, not so long ago as the postcard above might suggest, I hasten to add.
The reason I’m showing you the postcard is that it gives you an idea of the style of house in which my two little aunties live, although their cottage stands alone on a dusty road just a stone-throw from the sea. Several similar ‘Cape Dutch’ style houses still remain in Somerset West, the best examples being in Church Street, which has an interesting history and which is a place that became an important part of my life when I arrived here.
Auntie Grace and Auntie Rose provide a comedic element to the novel, and the group of ladies their characters are based upon had the same wry outlook on life.
We were all part of a small volunteer group which sought to provide support to clients of the public clinic who were being treated for HIV, TB and other chronic conditions. It sounds a bit grim, but we did in fact have a lot of fun, as we engaged in various uplifting activities including sewing, knitting and beadwork, all of which was accompanied by singing and chatting over cups of tea and coffee, and the plates of sandwiches which were my contribution.
Most of my fellow volunteers lived in Church Street in houses which were built on a plot of land originally owned by Lady Phillips, wife of Cape Governor, Lord Charles Phillips around the turn of the 20th century. A Methodist church and a school were also established here. My involvement in the support group was as a result of a connection to that school via an international art competition and exchange programme with my husband’s school in the UK back in 2008. It was through the friends we made at Somerset West Primary School that led to us moving Somerset West, two years later.
During our two mornings a week in our room at the back of the clinic, our conversations tended to centre on matters like ‘soapies’ (soap operas), clothes, kids and cooking. Sharing recipes and talking about food was what really cemented my connection with members of the group and this is how I came upon some of ‘Auntie Rose’s recipes‘ and my character’s cooking became part of her story.
And now to the story. The following excerpt is taken from an early part of the book where Albertina, new to the little West Coast town, first comes across the aunties.
Excerpt from Song of the Sea Goddess
A commotion at the front of the little house catches Albertina’s attention. Two little old aunties are marching up and down their stoep, noisily pulling the chairs from under the table, bending over and searching the floor. They both straighten up so much as they can; one holds up her hands in the air, the other plants her hands on her broad hips and shakes her head.
She walks over and stands looking at them, her head on one side and a smile on her bright red lips.
‘Come,’ Auntie Rose beckons her onto the stoep. ‘She can help us look, can’t she, Auntie Grace?’
Auntie Grace nods and hurries over to open the little gate for Albertina. She takes hold of Albertina’s sleeve. ‘Come,’ she tugs at the sleeve, propelling Albertina towards the table. ‘Put your bag down here and help us look.’
‘She doesn’t know what we’re looking for,’ says Auntie Rose.
‘I’m coming to that.’
Auntie Rose rolls her eyes and squints up at Albertina. ‘She’s lost her glasses,’ she points to her sister, ‘and I’ve lost my teeth,’ she explains gurning at Albertina. ‘My false teeth,’ she adds, in case Albertina misunderstands.
Albertina places her bag on the table and looks from one little auntie to the other. Immediately she notices the pair of glasses perched on Grace’s head. She points to her own head. Auntie Grace reaches up with one hand, pulls her glasses off her tightly cropped grey hair and holds them out to her sister, her eyebrows raised.
It’s Auntie Rose’s turn to put her hands on her hips. ‘I wasn’t looking there,’ she said indignantly. ‘You said they must have fallen on the floor, and anyway,’ she continued, ‘that’s where I was looking for my teeth.’ Albertina bends down to look under the table. As she does so, she notices a crescent-shaped bulge halfway down Auntie Rose’s rather tightly stretched pants’ leg. She stands up and points at the bulge. Auntie Rose looks down. Her hand goes to her thigh feeling the trapped object. She starts to giggle. She sits on the nearest chair and eases the object down past her knee. Still giggling she scoops the object up as it drops out of her pants’ leg and brandishes a set of teeth aloft. Both aunties burst into peals of laughter. Such is their merriment that Albertina joins in too, her eyes darting about the stoep.
As the laughter dies down, Albertina seizes the brush which is leaning by the wall and starts to sweep the stoep. Albertina is a demon sweeper. The aunties watch as she whisks up the dust and crumbs and bits of fabric and thread which have accumulated under the table. She makes a neat pile and looks around. She grabs the little shovel that stands in the corner and deftly sweeps the pile onto it. She spies the dirt bin the other side of the wall and swiftly deposits the rubbish inside, before replacing the brush and shovel. She goes to pick up her bag, but Auntie Grace puts her hand on hers and points towards a chair. ‘Sit a moment.’
The sisters look at each other and something unspoken passes between them.
‘We could do with some help,’ says Auntie Grace. ‘We can’t pay a lot mind. There’s not so much to do but, you know, some of the heavier work…’
A smile spreads across Albertina’s face.
‘Where do you stay?’ asks Auntie Rose.
Albertina gestures vaguely at the road behind them.
The two aunties nod at each other and stand up. ‘Come and see,’ Auntie Grace says to Albertina as she heads into the house. Albertina picks up her handbag and follows her through the little kitchen to the back yard. Auntie Rose follows, her left leg swings awkwardly as she walks.
Out in the yard is a little wendy house. Auntie Grace pulls the door open. ‘It needs a good clean but would you like to…’
Albertina throws her arms around Auntie Grace, who totters, slightly off balance. Auntie Grace laughs, disentangling herself.
‘There’s a little bathroom too,’ says Auntie Rose, pointing to a small lean-to next to the kitchen. ‘It only has cold water though…’
‘Albertina only washes in cold water,’ she says proudly.
The two aunties look at each other. ‘That’s settled then,’ says Auntie Grace. ‘Why don’t you make us some tea?’ Auntie Rose beckons to Albertina and leads the way to the kitchen.
Song of the Sea Goddess
On Amazon: USA ~ UK ~ IND ~ AUS ~ CAN ~ ESP ~ South Africa and the Rest of the World
Download from kobo
Image credits: Wikipedia (unknown author), Somerset West Clinic
Hopeless as it’s beginning to seem without the elder’s lead, the dance continues. Chanting, stamping, every person keeps in time, as strings of shells which dangle from their ankles, rattle to a timeless beat. Owab, carried by the rhythm of the dance, wills himself on, inhaling the powerful scent of the sacred herbs smouldering on the remnants of the fading fire.
They cannot fail. Without the Rain Bull, the land will turn to dust and the group will be driven from the place they call home.
Far into the night
they dance on through scented smoke;
waiting for a sign.
Previous episodes of this little African adventure are here.
Photo credit: Nika Zhorzholiani from Pexels
Written in response to two challenges:
– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – PERSON, DANGLE, HOPELESS
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – REMNANT
I also set myself the additional challenges of confining my piece to 100 words exactly and writing in the haibun form. Just for fun!
Click here for more Six Sentence Stories – come and join the party!
Welcome to the latest stop on our literary tour through the pages of my novels. This week you’re going to need your hard hats as we venture into the mysterious network of tunnels and basements built beneath the fine city of Liverpool. These fictional tunnels from You’ll Never Walk Alone, are partly based on fact, although I embellished the extent of the network for the sake of the story.
When I was initially rummaging around in rabbit holes researching the background to the book, I came across this article which talks about a basement areas under Bold Street in the city centre, where Pierre and Lucy do some of their ‘Sunday Shopping’. In fact, I’ve referenced the before – you might even remember it if you were following the unfolding novel back in October 2018! One of the comments in the thread provided me with a big chunk of inspiration for my fictional tunnel network:
“I worked on a refurbishment prog (sic) in 1980 at the Adelphi hotel. A tunnel was found at the front of the hotel, it’s now covered over by the back bar in the night club. It was heading in the direction of Lewis’s or Central Station.”
Many of you will remember that I was once employed as an insurance surveyor, and in the course of some of my building inspections I tramped through many of the dusty, disused and fascinating parts of Liverpool’s panoply of historical edifices.
One of these was the Cotton Exchange. Remember how Liverpool was built on the Far Eastern trade of cotton and silk? Even in the distant days of my insurance career not much was left of the cotton trade in Liverpool and, at the time of my visit, this beautiful old building had fallen into disrepair. I remember being shown the old sample room where the quality of the merchants’ cotton was once assessed against the samples contained in a large beautifully crafted chest of drawers. But the basement held many treasures. Take a look.
Around the perimeter of this massive building there were a number of intriguing metal-clad doors which led from the pavement down into the basement storage level and it was this that captured my imagination for Pierre’s little bolt hole:
“I have just the place. Come, Lucy.” He held out his hand. Lucy took it and followed him as he ducked around the next corner and down a short flight of steps leading to a basement area. There was a heavy door at the bottom of the stairs and the window next to the door was boarded up. Pierre reached down and drew out a key from a recess under the bottom step. He fitted the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges...
A few paragraphs later, they finally make their escape through the basement and into the tunnels. Lucy is understandably unnerved when she and Pierre first enter…
.
Excerpt from You’ll Never Walk Alone
“This way,” Pierre took Lucy’s hand and guided her out of the room into a dimly lit corridor. The heels of Lucy’s dancing shoes echoed on the tiled floor as they hurried past the closed doors on either side of the corridor. At the end there was a larger metal door with a plate which read ‘boiler room’. Pierre pulled the thick metal handle towards him and they stepped over the threshold. The door clanged shut behind them. They climbed down a short flight of metal steps and crossed the floor of the boiler room to another metal staircase which led to a sub-basement. At the far side of the lower basement there was a smaller unmarked door. Pierre pushed against.
“Okay, Lucy, through here.”
“It’s so dark. Where are we going, Pierre?”
“Hold on, just stand there a sec,” he said letting go of her hand and feeling along the wall. Lucy heard a click and a torch beam shone on the ground in front of her. Pierre shone the beam around revealing a tall, brick-lined tunnel.
“Where are we?” asked Lucy. “It’s not a sewer is it?
“You’d be able to smell if it was. No, this is part of a whole network of tunnels under the city.”
“How did you know about..?”
“Come on, Lucy,” just a bit further. “You’ll like where we come out.” Pierre sounded as if he was enjoying himself now.
“Okay, you’re the boss.”
Hand in hand they strode along the tunnel. Lucy focused on the torch beam, shutting out all thoughts of what might lurk beyond the pool of yellowy light. As they followed a branch in the tunnel which led off to the right, the gradient increased and a little further on, Lucy could make out the faint outline of a door. Pierre clicked off the torch and placed it in a small alcove alongside the door.
“Okay, Lucy, let me just check the coast is clear.” Pierre ducked inside the doorway and looked around. He gestured Lucy to follow.
Lucy stepped into another corridor and followed Pierre through the door opposite where they had come in. The room beyond was shrouded in gloom, but Lucy could make out a row of steel barrels and shelves containing cardboard boxes and bottles. They crept through the storeroom and found themselves behind a bar counter, looking out into a room containing an assortment of tables with chairs piled up on them. Pierre looked at Lucy and smiled.
“I know where this is. It’s that little bar at the side of the Adelphi Hotel.” Lucy said triumphantly.
“It certainly is,” Pierre held out his hand. “Follow me, let’s see about a room.”
You’ll Never Walk Alone is available from Amazon in paperback and ebook and on Kindle Unlimited
USA ~ UK ~ CAN ~ AUS ~ IND ~ the rest of the world
Image credits: Liverpool Echo, Britannia Adelphi Hotel
The hunters advance further into the foothills of the purple mountains. Despite Aquilla’s reassuring presence, Owab remains downcast. He cannot pretend that his failure to forestall the lioness’ attack on the elder hasn’t weakened the group’s chances of success in their search for the Rain Bull.
As night falls, the hunters light a fire on a shelf-like outcrop of rock and wait as the quarter moon rises in the velvet sky to align with Orion’s three she-tortoises. Each throws a handful of scented herbs into the flickering flames.
Aquilla cries out;
they gather around the fire
and prepare to dance.
Previous episodes of this little African adventure are here.
Photo credit: researchgate.net
Written in response to two challenges:
– Di of Pensitivity101‘s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge – PRETEND, SHELF, TALL
– Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt – QUARTER
I also set myself the additional challenges of confining my piece to 100 words exactly and writing in the haibun form. Just for fun!
Click here for more Six Sentence Stories – or bring one of your own to the party!
Behind those sapphire eyes
a trusting soul peers out
your little heart beats apace
tiny mouth mews silently
oh, little kitten
I am smitten
beholding a world
of wonder
anew.
Written in response to Sadje‘s What do You See #85 photo prompt.
Image credit: Iqbal Nuril @ Pixabay
The image shows a small kitten looking inquisitively, from under a table.
It’s my great pleasure to welcome Jude Itakali to this month’s Launch Pad spot. Many of you will already be familiar with Jude through his blog, Tales Told Different, but let’s find out a little bit more about him from his author bio.
Jude was born and lives in Kampala, Uganda, and when not being an athlete on the rugby field, or crunching down numbers on a computer for work, he delicately pens the epiphanies from life and its different relationships and encounters.
He writes about all sorts of topics, finding a way to relate them with each other because no one theme exists in a vacuum.
Empathy is sometimes considered a gift, and Jude has it in abundance.
Jude has recently released his first book, Crossroads (Winds of Love) – a collection of poetry, prose and short stories. Here he is to tell us all about it. Take it away, Jude!
~~~
Thank you for inviting me onto your blog today, Chris. I’m excited to tell you all about my book, which is entitled Crossroads (Winds of Love).
This is my debut publication and I used poetry because of its ability to touch a variety of people in a variety of ways. I admire the creativity it gives and the outlet of emotions that might otherwise fester within. The ability to exercise the breadth of language to pass on a message has always captivated me because it touches and evokes much deeper than plain words.
CROSSROADS (Winds of love) is a collection of poems, prose, and short stories written in verse. Many times, romantic love is depicted as a formula: advice on ways in which to get the best out of love. In my time and experience through many kinds of love, some my own, many from the people closest to me, and a few from the world testimonies and stories, I have come to understand that each situation is different, and not all advice is applicable for everyone. Love is not bound by rules, and in most cases, it does not make sense.
I wrote and compiled these poems and stories to show multiple aspects of love, to show the reader that they are not alone, that they should not be judged, and even though love’s pleasures may come with even greater pains, that in the end, the power to change it or discover it in its best form, lies within us.
This precious gem of a book has poetry in structured forms including, but not limited to sonnets, haiku, etheree, tanka, cinquain, shadorma, and many more. It also contains free verse poetry and a splattering of short stories. It takes us on an adventure through longing, intimacy, heartbreak and healing.
Click here for some of my latest reviews and some short extracts from the book.
The Blurb
In the corridors of love,
At the crossroads of loneliness,
We stand at our most vulnerable.
As the winds of love swirl, we are often ill-prepared for the portends and promises they carry;
The longing, fear, and deception.
The intimacy, and the horrors of heartbreak.
But also the hope, renewal and strength from the trials we have survived.
May these poems, prose and short stories touch each in their own particular way,
And bring us all perspective, compassion, hope and ultimately;
Love!
Find it on Amazon in ebook and paperback: USA ~ UK ~ IND ~ AUS ~ CAN ~ ESP ~ Rest of the World
If it’s available in your region, I’d recommend you order a paperback copy – so much better for poetry.
My copy arrived just a few days ago.
.
Follow Jude here!
Goodreads: Goodreads Author Jude Kirya Itakali
Blog: WordPress – Tales Told Different
Facebook: Kirya Itakali Jude
Twitter: @jude_clutch
Instagram: judeitakali
Contact him on email: judekirya37@gmail.com
luna's on line 