The dry earth coughs up dust storms

While cattle scratch at the brownness,

Their tongues having forgotten

The sweetness of green grass.


But the sky is closed up like

a heart that has borne much pain,

And the clouds hold back the rain

As though in just retribution.


Would it be that the mewling of

slaughtered beasts and the gasps

of dying fish rose up from the earth

in pangs of collective wailing?



It could be that the heavens have

a thousand ears and a million eyes?

Maybe Nature communes with itself

In a language we have stopped hearing.



Australia has been experiencing drought for 6 years in a row. Cattle are dying and farmers are committing suicide.


The Lamp

(100-word flash fiction)

“Ah! Treasure trove!” said Harry, spotting the piled-up pallets, spouting broken bits-and-pieces.

Megan smiled, bemused. She had never thought her new, immaculately-dressed boyfriend would have a fetish for junk.

“Look! A lamp!” He pulled out a dulled bronze thingy.

“Do you think I should rub it?” Harry’s face sparkled with anticipation as he turned towards her.

But, she was gaping, horror-stricken, at something behind him.

“Your wish shall be fulfilled, dear girl.” said the ghost of Henry VIII. “Poor bugger didn’t know the one the lamp is pointed at makes the wish.”

“Croak!” said Harry and jumped into the lake.


My muse is a tad naughty this time. I had a great time visualising this. You can tell I am not a royalist 😀 Thanks to the lovely Rochelle for shepherding us week after week with such graciousness.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook