Staring at the clock, it mocks my plight.
Five minutes left, or so it claims,
But time has turned to molasses;
Every tick a tiny giggle,
As my coffee grows cold, and
My chair re-forms to my shape.
It’s then that I ponder
The deeper questions,
Like if I can train my stapler to fetch,
Or if the printer is secretly plotting against me?
Words, & Illustrations (c)BobChristian
In the ink of night, where shadows dance like whispers,
Rides the Dullahan, headless, relentless.
Upon a steed as black as the void it carries.
Eyes that are not there, see everything.
A mouth that does not speak screams silently.
For he is the herald of death,
The unyielding messenger of the inevitable.
The road stretches endlessly under the moon’s cold gaze,
As if the earth itself shudders at his coming.
The Dullahan rides, a figure draped in darkness,
Where laughter dies in the throat,
Where hope flees like a hunted thing.
He holds his head high, cradled like a grotesque lantern,
Its grin wide, eyes rolling… searching
For the soul he seeks; for the life he will claim.
The air hangs heavy with the weight of his curse.
The clatter of hooves a dirge,
An echo of finality that chills the marrow.
Villages dare not whisper his name,
Lest they summon his wrath;
Lest they feel the sweep of his unseen gaze.
No lock can bar his path.
No gate can halt his ride.
For the Dullahan is unbound by the chains of the living,
A spectre of grim purpose;
A harbinger of the end we all must meet.
And when he halts,
When his steed rears before a trembling door,
Silence falls like a shroud,
And the air thickens with dread.
Yet, even as the Dullahan rides on,
There is a flicker of something more.
A mirror to our own mortality;
A reminder that the end is not an end,
But merely the dark side of the moon.
A passage to the unknown.
So, listen for the hooves in the night.
Feel the chill that climbs your spine,
And remember:
The Dullahan rides for us all,
One by one,
Until the end of time.
(c)BobChristian
I once told my wife she was wrong. Yeah, that only
happened once.
The walls took a deep breath like they were about to dive into drama,
The clock decided to take a coffee break.
Even the cat gave me that “Dude?” look
before moonwalking out of the room.
(c)BobChristian
A fluffy feline, all cuteness and coos,
Lulls the world with her innocent ruse.
But when the lights dim, a switch she flicks
Her furry façade hides her secrets and tricks.
For under the moonlight this agent elite
Prowls with a purpose, a master of sneak.
Leaping through shadows, her movements so fleet,
Unraveling mysteries, the world at her feet.
This furry ‘James Bond’, this cat of intrigue,
Keeps the world safe, though she acts like a geek.
By day she’s a kitten, all purrs and delight,
But by night she’s a warrior ready to fight!
(C)BobChristian
Yesterday evening I saw a reel. Or short video, on Facebook.
It explains how to make a mirror-ball, you have to break lots of pieces of glass to create a beautiful item that shines beautifully.
So when you think you’re broken. Your not broken, your a just sparkly mirror-ball.
I then reimagined what was said, into this
Disco resurrection
Shattered shards, once discarded and forgotten,
Now gathered, polished, and reborn.
A disco ball, a beacon in the night,
Flashing, flirting, a mesmerizing sight.
Fractured fragments, their edges sharp and true,
Transformed into something wondrous, anew.
A symbol of resilience, a dance of light,
Your flishy, flashy, sparkling splendour, a dazzling delight.
(c)BobChristian
While Mrs Bob is putting the finishing touches to my next book. I was looking at all the scribbles, and part finished pieces etc I have to see how many more I had left. I came across this piece that I’d not included in my next book. Obviously as I’m sure you’re all aware, we sadly had to say goodbye to Ollie a week ago. While he was the bravest cat I’ve had the privilege of knowing, I didn’t want to just discard this scribble, so I thought I’d share it with you all.
Enchanted Grove
In a mystical garden, where the world unfolds its secrets like ancient scrolls, there are two young dragons Ollie and Noodles with bravery stitched into their scales. They shimmer and shine, a spectacle of brilliance in this enchanted realm, a sanctuary where reality dances with dreams.
They find rest in plant pots, nestled deep, dreaming of adventures yet to be written across the sky. When dawn breaks, they rise with the sun, eager to explore, untamed and free, as if the universe itself is calling them by name.
They chase each other through the garden, their fiery joy a tapestry of laughter echoing in the air. Ollie’s wings, vibrant and bold, carry stories of strength, while Noodles’s eyes, like stars, capture every moment with a sparkle that speaks of wonder.
This magical haven becomes their playground, a stage for their spirits to soar, where they frolic and fill the air with joy and light. With them walks the old grey witch, a sage full of wisdom, alongside Nethiel, gentle, refined a harmony of souls crafting a symphony of discovery.
Together, they wander, a crew bound by curiosity, unearthing secrets both ancient and new. In the garden’s embrace, they find peace, a sanctuary where love and enchantment weave their timeless spell.
Ollie and Nelly, with hearts wide open, discover their place in this world, with the old grey witch and Nethiel by their side. It’s a bond woven by magic, a connection that defies time and space.
Let their story travel through the winds, a tale of Ollie and Nelly a whimsical band of dreamers. In the garden, they dwell, forever entwined, a narrative of friendship where love finds its true definition.
(c)BobChristian
The afternoon sun spills across the room,
Casting golden shadows on our intertwined bodies,
As our kitten curls between us,
A soft reminder of joy in the quiet moments.
In this stillness, the world fades,
And love wraps around us like a warm blanket.
(c)BobChristian
In the kingdom of office cubicles,
there’s Andy, our unorganized brash king penguin,
waddling through the chaos, wearing mismatched socks,
confusing spreadsheets with snack sheets—
the only guy who can turn a meeting into a fishing trip.
He flaps his flappers in excitement,
“Who needs preparation when we have enthusiasm?”
And we nod, trying to find our missing stapler, wondering if it swam south for the winter.
(c)BobChristian
In the quiet of dusk, I whisper my desires.
Fingers tracing sigils in the air,
Each breath a spell, a gentle nudge,
Waves of intention curling through the cosmos,
Stars shift, aligning with my heart’s wish,
And the universe leans in, listening.
(Words and Images (c)BobChristian)
I’ve decided that, while I want to use my skills for good, life is too short to avoid all mischief.
So I’ve penned a little humorous piece, no harm intended.
She stands on the fresh brickwork, arms wide in disbelief,
“Mum, my future trips to Ibiza are now this driveway!”
Her mother nods, admiring the smooth surface.
“Sweetheart, now you can park those dreams right here.”
(c) BobChristian
The Ramblings of Bob Christian 