The past wins

January 6, 2016January 6, 2016 / simonsalento / Leave a comment

The past wins. It is always with us, a squatting, glistening frog, always with us. We cannot outrun it though it does not run. In a B-movie treatment of a nightmare chase, our feet try to move but take us nowhere, no farther from the frog. Every now and again the frog’s wide mouth gapes.

The future is a lizard, green, red belly, flicking away into the distance over sunhot rocks. Every now and again it looks back over its shoulder, dragon smoke curling impatiently around it. Our feet try to move but take us nowhere, no closer to the lizard.

The future is impatient but the frog is always with us. The past wins.

The story that might yet unfold

December 30, 2015December 30, 2015 / simonsalento / Leave a comment

You go to your bath, violet-scented.

Hours later, I go to my bed

and lie, heart double fist thumping,

and wonder at the story that might yet unfold.

Tea

August 20, 2015August 20, 2015 / simonsalento / Leave a comment

She swirled the end of the tea around in the bowl and tipped it away. One long leaf remained, stuck camouflage green on the porcelain.

“Life will be what you make it” she said. This time I believed her.

Playpark

March 21, 2015 / simonsalento / Leave a comment

A toddler in a glorious tiger onesie sat motionless at the top of the not-too-slippery slide. Gripping the sides before launching himself down, he surveyed his world with satisfaction.

What a metaphor! I thought. What a thought for the day!

Then I calmed down. Perhaps not everyone wants to dress up as a tiger. I snarled softly, almost to myself, and padded on.

Believe our dreams

November 18, 2014 / simonsalento / Leave a comment

Our dreams are not coloured smoke that trail in strings from our hard-clenched fists;
Our dreams are light, morning breaking night, the rising sun beyond the clouds.

Red on green, soft black

December 19, 2013January 30, 2014 / simonsalento / Leave a comment

The coat stood out against the dying grass on the hillside. Anyone passing would have seen it.

Nobody passed.

She shrugged the coat back onto her shoulders and turned her gaze to the sky, away from the tree that leaned from the North Sea wind. Her jaw was gently set, as if the clouds troubled her at first. Then her face smoothed and her soft eyes saw the distance, saw the future.

(Inspired by http://www.broaddaylightltd.co.uk)