vss365 – LAUGHING – Short Story – 50 words

As Serena left the house she smiled at the memory of the evening.
She was glad she’d cooked. Jake had wolfed the food down.
Passing the window she waved gaily at Jake who was #laughing madly at the TV and waving frantically.
Not waving.
Arsenic soup.
Haute Cuisine.
She felt warm inside….



Like a domino in a rally

Am I part of the team?

Am I next in line?

Am I to stand or do I fall?


Like a domino in a deck

Will I be played?

Will I be laid?

Will I be noticed at all?


Like a domino on the table

Do I fit in?

Do I join up?

Do I answer the call?


Like a domino shuffled around

Can I adapt?

Can I settle back in?

Can I hold back the gall?


Like a domino in the box

Should I feel safe?

Should I like the dark?

Should I welcome the pall?


©pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – all right’s reserved


And he stands there.




Disbelieving his dream


nightmare; blinks



No tears; dry. Too dry    to try    to


Scratchy; hoarse

as his heart; beats.



Empty             space.


Blank       bed.

Gone; no more – no

sight to see – no


to speak.







And he stands there.

©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness – all rights reserved


Fog-grey paint on wood…


Imprisons willing hostage…


It jars – jams handle door to floor

Uterine prison seals hermetic hermit


The fawn as naked innocent born.

Cow mother forages for food…

To earn!

Boy buck lay prone; ears twitch.

Waiting to exhale.

Wolf pants foul –  

          turn handle –

                 entry permit?


On eves gone by wolf violates fawn.

Cow mother oblivious in her providing!

Crept in!


As fawn feigned sleep…

Lupus leered, licked – abused like prey


This night young deer escapes the hunt

Lays quiet, tremulous.

Wets itself!

Chair holds!

Patriarchal coward creeps back to fetid lair

Brief reprieve?

Grow strong – pray another day!


©pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – All rights reserved





Sandra works the slots all day

Smoking cigarettes; taking free drinks

Feeding the bandits instead of her soul…

Knowing it’s daylight, somewhere!

Ken throws craps; blackens the Jack

Winks sickly at the cocktail waitress

Imagines doing things way past his prime…

Knowing it’s nighttime, somewhere!

Passing hours like their years

Bathed in sticky syrup distraction

Dismount stool, lurch; pin-prick pupils

They meet at the buffet; tepid, bland

As their vacation; their marriage

Mid-life shape shifting sand!


© pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – All rights reserved



Life is a dream.


In dreams’ we exist…


For in dreams…


We sense

We see

We hear

We feel

We taste

We smell

We fear

We love

We lust

We loathe

We triumph

We fail

We fall

We climb

We fight

We laugh

We cry

We try

We run

We stop

We hit

We hug

We bite

We kiss

We sleep

We rest

We sing

We scream

We are hopeful

We lose hope

We gasp

We breathe

We hold it

We cherish it

We hold tight

We let go

We remember

We forget

We live

We die


And it is life…


 It really is…


It is reality…


We exist…


In dreams…





©pofacedpoetry (2018) – Billy Reynard-Bowness – All rights reserved



“The daily grind is so hard”
He whined
“Work and raising kids isn’t easy”
She opined
“Deirdre got your promotion”
He snitched
“I heard Dave got yours?”
She bitched
“I hate this damn job”
He sighed
“So look for another”
She cried
“Maybe tomorrow”
He lied
“You’ll do it one day”
She lied
“Stop tapping your foot”
He snapped
“Stop looking at her”
She flapped
“What’s for tea?”
He assumed
“Why ask me?”
She fumed
“Can’t believe it’s only Monday”
He moaned
“If I hear that again…”
She intoned
“Shall we get a takeaway?”
He enlightened
“Oh, I love you”
She brightened
“Love you too”
He cooed
“Kisses to you”
She blew
“See you tonight, love”
He winked
“You will, my lover”
She pinked
Midday water-cooler meeting
Frosty silence skin broken
Domestic warfare so fleeting
Morning car row forgotten
Like work-a-day sheep
At end of day meet, then
Takeaway, home, sleep
Up tomorrow, do it again
The couple who work, rest and play together…
©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness - All rights reserved





You pick up the lead like the blade of a knife
Gently and tenderly. Quiet with wish to surprise
But he hears. An ear pricks. His eyes flash to life
He barks; jumps and twirls. Joy impossible to disguise

Off we go. Adventure awaits; a walk has begun
His tail wildly wagging. He’s pulling. He’s alive
He knows for us both a walk is such fun
Exercise, fresh air; man and best friend thrive

Watching him run, wag and gambol. Sniff other dogs too
Chase his stick or his stone; about turn and run back
Instinctively he knows of a job he must do
Which is rounding up you; the leader of his pack

One day you go walking; no dog he’s at home
You trudge and you tramp; this isn’t much fun
You notice each step. Grumble how far you’ve come
Turn around and go back. This dull walk is done

A dog makes you stride and the run works the dog
The two are inseparable. Go together; a pair
For without my best mate a walk’s just a slog
A walk makes me baulk when my dogs not there

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)



My drum has perforations; now flawed

Mylar parchment once taut on bone

Leaks prose; but each metaphor pored

Percussive skull reverbs teeming tome


Waning instrument yet waxing lyrical

Tympanic threepenny opera still plays

Snare split – verbose facial spiracles

Whip quick flick of offal; tongue flays


Well weathered but – oh still sensual

Um bongo crammed with lyrics learned

Skin leathered; worn – still beautiful

Spills tales – well told – well earned  


©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness – 2018 – All rights reserved)


Static crackling ecstatically; manic pop

Transistor hissing and spitting; sideboard atop

First when there’s nothing…

But a slow glowing dream…


Pirouette such as whirling dervish makes

Adolescent prancer twirls; leg warmer fakes

All alone I have cried…

Silent tears full of pride…


Breathless incantation; future forged in dance

Performance fascination; leap upon the chance

What a feeling…

Bein’s believing…


Neon flashes bedeck wrists and bonce

Peers laughter flash like fire; a ponce

Take your passion…

And make it happen…


The music shields, deflects. Antacid; taunts abate

Rhyhmic dreamer energized; blind to all the hate

Pictures come alive…

You can dance right through your life…




As Bergen-Belsen ghost yet still aware

Lost dreamer segues silently on fetid air

Bruised and battered, I couldn’t tell what I felt…

I am unrecognizable to myself…


Shuffling as garish Geisha; white but not with paint

Breathless as fifties bombshell; heaving sick and feint

At night I could hear the blood in my veins…

It was black and whispering as the rain…


With steel partner; straight firm and slim of hip

Rigid in rigor’d waltz; moving labouredly with drip

I walked the avenue, ‘til my legs felt like stone…

I heard the voices of friends, vanished and gone…


Faithless rusting engine combusts toxic blood

Failing sack of sinew lies where dancer stood

Night has fallen, I’m lyin’ awake…

I can feel myself fading away…


Monotone white noise; assuring beep

Dancer dreams in endless sleep

There was a time when men were kind…

There was a time when love was blind…


©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness – 2018 – All rights reserved)


  1. Flashdance… what a Feeling (1983 – Giorgio Moroder, Keith Forsey & Irene Cara)
  2. The Streets of Philadelphia (1993 – Bruce Springsteen)
  3. I Dreamed a Dream (Les Miserables – Claude Michel Schonberg, Herbert Kretzmer & Alain Boubil)


Take bread
And spread
With Marmite
Just light
Mush avocado
Top tomato
Egg sliced
Bacon diced
Scoff munch
Yummy brunch!
Cuppa tea
So heavenly
Hobnob biscuit
That’ll fix it
pofacedpoetry - 2018 - all rights reserved
#loveitorhateit #mymate #marmite #PoFacedPoetry #foodpoet #poetryfood #tea #biscuit #hobnob #snooze