Photo by Gerd Altmann on Pixabay

Remember remember the fifth of November,
gunpowder, treason and plot.

Four hundred years spooled
since brave daring fools
risked all
for explosive

Remember remember this fifth of November,
No gunpowder nor bonfires hot.

All England lays muzzled
by virus which puzzles
our floundering politicians.
Night skies stretch dark,
untroubled and stark,
no festivities, fireworks,
or floating sparks
allowed in 2020.

Remember remember this fifth of November,
litigation, lies and plot.

Eyes of subdued planet
all fixed o’er the Atlantic,
as peace and civility,
climate and decency,
hang in the balance.

In England November 5th is known as bonfire night…

5 Poems, 25 words each, on the theme of “Leaves”

These came in response to a challenge to pick a theme and then write five poems, on five days on that theme, 25 words each. It’s a great challenge if you want to hone your writing and weigh every word. If you feel like trying it, please tag me in so I can see what others come up with.

Photo by author


Spring’s tender leaves
nourish awakening trees.
Dance and sway,
to entrap sun’s rays.
Then colour and curl,
tumble and swirl
as summer turns
to winter.

Image by Jess Bailey on Pixabay

50 Word Microfiction

Isabel dos Santos, photo from

Two versions of the contract lay before her.

With her gold-tipped pen, she signed one in her capacity as CEO of the state petroleum company, and the second in her personal capacity: daughter of the President.

Just like that, another $150million leached from her destitute country into her Dubai account.

I wish that this were fiction, but regrettably and gob-smackingly it is pure fact. If you would like to learn more about the staggeringly blatant and inventive kleptocracy at the heart of Angola’s government for the last 30 years, you can read about former President Jose Eduardo dos Santos, his…

Photo by CDC fromUnsplash

Photo by pixel2013 on Pixabay


VE Day, London 8 May 1945 (Photo 12/Universal Images via Getty Images)

Their grandchildren thought she was a doddery old technophobe.

Whatever would they think if they knew she’d helped create the very first computer? The thought make her chuckle.

In seventy years she’d never breathed a word to anyone, not even him.

None of the other Bletchley Park girls had either.

You can meet Edith in Part 1:

I’ve decided I quite like her so wanted to give her a second 50 words — I hope that’s allowed.

Bletchley Park is a stately home near to the town where I grew up. During WW2 it was home to the top secret…

50 Word Microfiction

VE Day, London 8 May 1945 (Photo 12/Universal Images via Getty Images)

Her face ached from smiling, heart bursting with fun. Her skirt swirled as he held her hands and they jived and bounced to the infectious beat of peace.

“Edith dear.”

She opened her eyes, her smile melted away. He stood before her, a crooked old man.

“Time for your pills.”

My thanks to Marla Bishop for the prompt. I initially wanted to write a story reflecting how challenging it is to be a young person entering the world of work right now — at least here in the UK — but decided that was too grim, so have instead looked…

Anna da Silva

Ex war reporter turned aid worker then environmentalist. Wife, mum & stepmum. Joining dots with story-telling, poetry, memoir & fiction. @hogglespiking

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