Category Archives: Short Stories

^{Unexpected Journey}

Swept on the road to Heaven

I cried out for God’s care

For the unexpected journey ahead

God smiled beckoned me

Come

Hold my hand

Don’t be afraid. I’m here, He said

I clasped His hand tightly.

The unexpected no longer

A journey alone

Swept on the road to Heaven

Sad to leave those I loved

God held tightly to my hand

Gave me acceptance to understand

My bewilderment

Let it pass He gently said

I walk my your side

Guiding your way don’t be afraid

I clasped His Hand tightly

The unexpected no longer

A journey alone

I stepped on the road to Heaven

To meet The God that I loved

And found Him

In family in friends

Their hands and comforting words

His Hand His words comforting me

At journey’s end

Gemma Hill 2017 ©

This was a favourite of my Mums
I didn’t think her very wise
when I had to learn to memorise my timetables
and my spelling list of word I could
hardly get my tongue around
I’d rather run about and play
And learn in the morning dew
When walking to school with
the village kids we’d
chant the work we’d have to parrot
as we lined around the classroom walls
and sweated fear
waiting our turn all recall
of what we were to learn
wiped from our memory
by the swish of the teacher cane
as others failed
the closer and closer it came to my turn
I thought my mother very wise
A little learning would save me pain
But alas too late
I saw the wisdom in my mother’s words

GC Hill 2017 ©

Her mask was perfect

he was in awe of her

not recognising she was the one

he’d raped and plundered

but soon he’d know her again

it would be too late for him then

she smiled a beguiling smile

there was nothing better

than the sweet taste of revenge

gchill copyright 2017

God’s Seed

God planted in each human heart a tender little seed,

And invited us to care for it and tend its every need.

He warned us of the dangers we would meet along our way,

That thorns and weeds would gather there in our hearts from day to day.

.

He told us when we needed help we’d find him waiting there,

To call him we should just kneel down and say a little prayer.

He would help us overcome those weeds from his heavenly home above,

One day that peace would flourish into a rose of peace and love.

God promised us that little seed would never wither or decay,

If we always give a helping hand to those we meet along our way.

Not just our friends, and neighbours, but our enemies and foes

We should share the petals in our heart from that sweet smelling rose.

The years are swiftly passing – just as the river flows,

The more I share these petals the sweeter grows my lovely rose.

I pray when life is over God will say, “Well done indeed.

You have done your best and nourished well my tender little seed.”

Author Phyllis Conway 2001

First published in Precious Moments a selection of poetry 2001

My Twin Stranger Doppelganger

Are you my twin stranger? She dimples in anticipation

I gaze absently. She is my duplicate – at head anyway

Could this be my doppelganger?

The fleeting glance deceives.  I waver

Drivers on the N15 move North South fumes trailing

Crossing depleted borders posts not yet Brexit revived.

In reminiscent travel of history’s antiquities

Or border towns’ strolling females

Beyond the streaming windowpane eyes scrutinise

In misty drizzle on the High Pad – Irish speak

For footpath raised high above the boulevard

A woman, Lifford bound on the A38

My stranger twin touches me. Bedecks me with a smile

Lifford and Strabane

Divided by McAlpine’s 115 Meter Span. I tread it habitually

She breathes emphatically. My legs thank you.

The miles you’ve saved me in summer sun and winter storms

Like wind softly whooshing on the River Finn

She emits a little whimsical sound

The bemused look on faces when they see–

Oh I thought you were she… they say, hesitantly

I smile. Remove my outer skin. Slide in beside them

Accept graciously the lift they offered you, not me

I’m her doppelgänger I affirm

It’s a great conversation starter.

I hear your name and feel impelled

To meet this Gemma Hill

This stranger twin of mine – Is she real?

Or is she a figment of drivers’ imagination?

GC Hill 2017 copyright

The Oul Money

There were two farthings in a halfpenny

That’s what there used to be

And two halfpennies made a penny

Back in nineteen sixty three

Three pennies made a threepenny bit

With two thrupenny bits you had a sixpence

I’ll have you all to know

So with two sixpences in a shilling

To the pictures you could go

And when you had a shilling

You thought that you were rich

But it was only half a florin

Back in nineteen sixty six

If you can’t remember all of this

Then please just write it down

With a florin and a sixpence

You then had half a crown

Four half-crowns made ten shilling note

You thought that it was great

That filled your car with petrol

Back in nineteen sixty eight

The ten shilling note it was pinky red

With two you had a pound

Will you mind all this when I’m finished

Have you got it all written down?

Five pounds you had a fiver

The same as it is today

A good week’s wages in sixty five

For working at the hay

The oul money is no longer used

My poem describes the job it done

The oul money it all ended

In nineteen seventy one

This poem was first published in, The language of Imagination, a collection of poetry 2014

By Paddy Montague Co Tyrone Ireland

SUMMER HOME DESTROYER

  Photo credit Irish News

Fast furious cold grey rain falls vindictively

 Like a wilful tantrum teen

Pounding, lashing, beating on the ground furiously

Nature’s wrath cut loose

 Untamed  

Unrestrained

Roads, Rivers, Mud filled shelters   

Cars bobbing like toys at bath time

Absent of drivers – if they are lucky

Thunder and lightning fireworks extravaganza

 Nature’s destructive beauty grandstanding

Rivers roaring, rushing free

Party to the unfurling chaotic melee

Town and country lane

Flooded indiscriminately

 An orgy of devastation

Summer home destroyer

Freewheeling

G C Hill 2017   copyright

SUMMER HOME DESTROYER

Fast furious cold grey rain falls vindictively

 Like a wilful tantrum teen

Pounding, lashing, beating on the ground furiously

Nature’s wrath cut loose

 Untamed  

Unrestrained

Words In Anger

Stabs to the heart

Venomous spittle wrenching aside the

Gossamer veil of civility revealing

Nature’s harsh breath in all its ugliness

Counterfeited imaginative musing

Dwelled on, sustain, embellished

Swell like an angry sea

Into the realm of fanciful offense

Spewed poison wounding

Where a simple confession

Of conscience contrition would have saved

Supplementary words

Deadly as a serrated butcher’s knife

Plunge deep tearing flesh

Wounds embedded forever

In a lacerated heart

And leaves silence cold and deadly

Like the stealth step of an intruder

In the soul

GC Hill 2017  copyright