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The old lady
who constantly frets,
surrounded by Muslims,
feels them a threat.
Is she racist,
or is she frightened?

The teenage boy
who steals a blade,
his cocky stare
a masquerade.
Is he a thug,
or is he scared?

The parents who
sigh with dismay
at signs that their boy
may be gay.
Are they homophobic,
or are they frightened?

The abused child
who's been defiled,
for love becomes 
a paedophile.
Is he a sex offender,
or is he scared?

The lonely spinster
in her flat,
talking only to
her tabby cat.
Is she a witch,
or is she frightened?

The manager
who never doubts,
does not explain
and always shouts.
Is she arrogant,
or is she scared?

The kid who picks
upon the weak,
the way they talk
or look, or speak.
Is she a bully,
or is she frightened?

Ignorance feeds
our fear, I fear,
and makes us grow
a thick veneer.
Are we ignorant,
or are we scared?

Sweet Dreams

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Sweet Dreams

Good night, night-night,
Mind those bed bugs don't bite.
Little darling, sleep tight.
Creeps down, turns off light.

Bed bugs that bite!
Eyes wide in fright,
Imagines a sprite,
Huge teeth, yellow-white.

In the gloomy twilight,
His fear at it's height,
Scared stiff, sits upright,
And screams out, forthright.

His mother, contrite,
Explains that bedbugs don't bite
And the calmed little mite,
Gets a teddy. Delight!


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Spiders, snakes, irrational fear,
Can hold us back, and be severe.
Fear of public speaking, talking
To a crowd, or fear of walking
Open spaces, confined spaces.
Fear of people, fear of faces.
Fear of losing someone dear,
Scared of what our loved ones hear.

Scared to venture, scared to try,
Scared of water, scared to fly.
Deep, dark places, dizzy heights,
Anything can give us frights.
Ridicule, fear of rejection,
Anything, upon reflection.
Fear is human, that's no lie,
Can cripple us, can make us cry.
We need to conquer it, aim high,
Pocket fear, reach for the sky.

A Story

Me and Dauphy like writing Haiku. Their brevity doesn’t allow for any pretentiousness. Each word has to be carefully thought about and balanced with its neighbours.

Consequently, when we heard about the concept of six word stories, we were intrigued. I know we all lead busy lives, but surely we’d misunderstood. Six paragraphs, or sixty words maybe, but no, six words it was.

Well, that got my little poet’s noggin working overtime. Dauphy was so interested that he even gave up valuable sleeping time to give me a hand. Genius that he is, he realised that if I gave the piece a title, I could cheat a bit and use seven words! So here it is, our first attempt (drumroll) at a six word story.



Crack.  He paused, startled.  She fled.
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