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In A Hotel
Garden
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I'm afraid it escapes me whereabouts in Scotland
this hotel garden was, but I still remember fondly the cheese
scones and cream teas we were served beside the pond that
nestled in a sprawling lawn.
Myriads of flowers were in full bloom, and the combination of
hues and fragrance was spellbinding. Oh, to be back there
again when tension builds!
- Perry Estelle
Ely, Cambridgeshire, England.
In-house author and humorist for Fugitive Author
http://www.fugitiveauthor.com
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F
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O
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= A Dream =
I was standing on the river bank. A heavy mist
had descended, which seemed to envelop the entire
surrounding valley. No one could see me through the
mist, as I stood there, lonely and suffering. I
could hear the voice of the stream, which seemed to
be floating . . . floating away like a long lost
dream.
Read this story by
Susanna Huang
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F
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O
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=
Between Anjuau and Nauli =
Anjuau has just arrived at home from his office.
He feels so tired and wants to go to bed
immediately, but a letter on the table attracts his
attention. There is no sender mentioned on the back
of the envelope, but it was postmarked from Medan.
He opens it immediately. This is what he read:
Read this story by Hotma di
Hita L Tobing
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F
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=
Blatant Revisionism =
Christopher Columbus stood on a sun-drenched dock
in Palos, Spain, staring out to sea. The creaking
vessels rocked on the blue-green water and vaguely
entered his consciousness. The braying of seagulls
added to the melody of port life. The stench of fish
and other salt-ladened things induced a crisp
sensation in his nose.
Read this story by David
Schwartz
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F
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O
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=
Twilight =
Bipasa was waiting with a scrap of cardboard on which she had written the name in block letters: Kulbhushan Singh.
She had not seen the man before. Nor had that person who was on his way from Canada seen
her before either. It was all arranged that
someone would come to pick him up.
Read this story by
Raja Chakraborty
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S
U
P
P
O
R
T
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=
Life Is A
Patchwork
Quilt =
Think about it for a moment.
If you have been lucky enough to grow up around crafty women, as I have, then you can appreciate a work of art when you see it. When you witness all the time and energy and creativity that goes into a quilt or any artistic endeavor, you appreciate it more.
Read this
story by
Dee
Pacheco |
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Living Stories
Stories read and recorded as MP3 files.
You can access these from the list pages.
Tintota's Living Stories are ideal if you are studying English
as a foreign language,
for they enable you to hear the words spoken
whilst you follow the text on your screen.
Why not download these files and burn them to a CD or DVD
so that your friends can listen to them in the comfort of their own homes?
The following Living Stories have been added this month
TRUE STORIES
= Wild Food - Yolanda Bentham
Reader: Nomad
POEMS
= Remote Viewing - Lester Warner
Reader: Gardenmouse
= Sweet Romance - Dave Fisher
Reader: Nomad |
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If you fail
to receive a Tintota Newsletter for whatever reason,
or you delete it by mistake before you've had a chance to
read it,
just drop me a line and I'll gladly send you another copy.
But do make sure the e-mail address you give me is correct
and active,
or I won't be able to contact you.
Warren |
Animal Lovers . . .
.gif)
The July/August Issue
is now on line. |
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Inner
Sanctum
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Who would enter this room?
Nobody has dared to come in.
Perhaps these doors are shaken by air.
These faded walls keep a secret,
Hysteric laughter, silent cries, untamed passions.
No way-out, some scars won't ever heal.
A lone candle burns in the wind,
Mystical shadows dance in silhouette.
An inner sanctum where I burn, burn, burn, forever.
- Arijit Dasbarman
Calcutta, West Bengal, India. |
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Most
Important Matter
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The most important matter,
according to you,
is Cephalopoda,
or the fact that the onion
has a tearing effect.
Poor fools,
amateurs of colours,
unfortunately ignore
that white
is not a colour.
Girls of joy
and silent machines
are wisps of the
masters of rumours.
Selfish, reptilian men,
fools searching to reign
in the pockets of others,
toadies pouring forth evil
in the goodness which they make.
One cannot find them.
The most important matter,
according to you,
is Cephalopoda,
or the fact that the onion
has a tearing effect.
- Üzeyir Lokman Çayci
Mantes-la-Ville, Yvelines, France.
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Transformation |
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How could they do this?
Not to tell me of their plans.
Deeply wounded, I believed,
By the arrow called 'not caring'.
Silently I brooded,
Deep within my pain,
Wishing to return the sting,
Tenfold back to the giver.
Wisely, I waited for time,
To coat a salve upon my pain,
And, as the hours and days passed,
I came to listen to my heart.
It told me of love and wisdom,
And that what I felt was not wrong.
It told me of the beauty of anger,
Changed by love into healing.
Hearing wisdom within its voice,
I chose to transform the resentment,
Turning it into jewel-bright butterflies,
Which I released to fly to freedom.
Each to land on another in pain,
To begin the task of healing.
And so from the seed called anger
Grew a flower called forgiveness.
- Lester Warner
Orwell, Ohio, U.S.A.
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Animals Are
People Too |
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A myriad people with different faces.
Some funny,
some sour and dour,
some full of cheek and mischief
and still others happy too.
A tall people and a short people.
A huge people and a tiny people.
A people bringing to birth Nations,
some small and some big.
A people fighting for space,
for food,
for shelter
and even a future.
A people with much dignity
and yet others without all that much.
A people of color, valor and even squalor.
A people inclined to bully
and yet others gentle and sensitive.
A dreaming people
and still others without dreams.
A fussy people and yet, too,
a carefree lot.
A lazy people
as well as those who coined the word - industry.
A noisy people
as well as a quiet breed.
A bold people
and a retiring one.
A blue-eyed lot,
as well as green,
brown
and violet too.
A hard, unyielding and unforgiving people
as well as those gentle,
generous souls that redeem the earth.
Animals are people too
and don’t you ever forget it!
- Nyambura Kiarie
Nairobi, Kenya.
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Your
Birthday |
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The sun's rays carefully slice open the night
to reveal your birthday.
Birds begin to tell the world
it’s your special day.
They fly above,
singing to all below how beautiful you are.
The wind gently blows fluffy clouds
in attempt to spell your name.
Raindrops gently fall on you
like kisses sent from the angels in heaven.
Butterflies dance
with silken wings along your path.
Leaves from the trees wave timidly
as you pass by.
The sun presents you with a beautiful painting
splattered in the skies.
Dusk arrives, and carefully wraps the painting
in darkness for you.
The moon appears and brightens the darkness
for your eyes to see.
Frogs croak their birthday wishes
in the shallows of the ponds.
A solitary owl looking down below
enquires with a gentle, "Who? Whose birthday?"
Gradually, tiredness is opened for you
with a gentle yawn.
Finally, with a smile,
in memory of the gifts of the day
you slowly close your eyes.
- Gardenmouse
Canberra, Australian Capital Territory, Australia.
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The Sad
Clown |
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He sits alone entombed in his caravan.
A plate of discarded pizza lies on the table
like some decaying creature.
Papers of half-read letters and envelopes
are scattered on the table like fallen leaves.
In the sink, dirty dishes
appear to be trying to claw their way out.
Clothes, in small heaps, have been strewn around
just marking another day that had passed.
Behind the door, his costume,
brightly coloured, is waiting to be seen.
Suddenly, nearby, the music comes to life
and plays its tune.
The same tunes play as in the past,
now and forever.
The music smothers the caravan
and he knows it's time.
He slowly rises and
moves closer to the mirror.
A sad tired face looks back at him
and a tear slowly appears.
The tear slowly rolls down his cheek
and disappears.
He brings out a small container
and covers his face with white cream, covering his sadness.
Slowly, he tries to remember a smile,
and with red lipstick draws one on.
He brings down his costume
and carefully dissolves into it.
In the distance, he hears the laughter and cheers
of small children.
Slowly, he crawls into his small car,
and drives towards the entrance of the big top.
- Gardenmouse
Canberra, Australian Capital Territory, Australia.
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The Earth
Shook |
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And the earth shook,
And the lava flowed
Like a river down the mountain.
Though my physical form
Was not present there,
I felt the tremors in my legs
And the heat on my cheeks.
Terror, anxiety, excitement, awe,
Mother Nature at her best,
And at her worst.
A path of total destruction,
An act of purification,
A cleansing of the land,
And of my soul.
Ten years and plants,
Twenty years and trees,
Fifty years to forget.
And the earth shook
And the lava flowed
Like a river down the mountain.
- Dee Pacheco
Geneva, Ohio, U.S.A.
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A Visit to
the Planetarium
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In blue-black
space
gorged with the unacquainted
history's picture book
(born by an informed voice)
lazily unfolds
to animate the whole
(a temporal eternity),
before silently melting
into the Milky Way
of upturned eyes.
- Colin Baker
Blackwood, Gwent, Wales.
http://www.colinbaker62.com
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Exams
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There's no escape now,
Friday the 22nd day of June is here.
Why couldn't I been a flying trapeze lady?
Or even a buccaneer?
Well, there's not much more
For a buccaneer to learn,
Than to be scary and mean,
And lady trapeze artists,
Are so delicate and ever so lean.
No, I had to go and study,
Management 3 and Creativity, and the Arts,
And other excitable things.
Hope I've learnt enough this past month.
Why haven't I grown wings?
What is that fluttering sound?
Is that my wings back there?
Why do I just get a stare,
From that lady sitting on the chair?
What does she care,
Here in a cold unheated room?
I read and think,
Then I read the words over again.
The ten minutes perusal time is up,
I have to put pen to paper.
I begin to write, and soon it's over,
Two hours have flashed past,
That exam is gone at last.
Drats, it's the weekend, and soon
I'll be back in that room,
Where is the relaxation?
Where is the time?
I'm to play in the Doubles tomorrow,
Will a win there settle my mind?
Hooray, my friend, Nancy, and myself
Have the Doubles in our hands,
Now I can cram in some study on Sunday.
Well, that's one of my great plans.
Yet, cramming is not the way to go,
But I've not done my homework and so,
I've got to get this matter in,
I'm really feeling rather low.
What, Monday morning already?
It's exam day 2. Steady, steady,
What was that I'd read?
Is it all going to stay in my head?
Yes, yes, I've done it again.
For two full hours I've wielded the pen,
Let's hope it's a win ,
At least a pass.
What's that I hear?
Is it the opening of bottles of good cheer?
Well, I'm settling for home and hubby and comfort,
Definitely a cuppa and a crumpet.
The exams are over,
What a hoot!
Pass me that crumpet and let me toot,
I'll not toot too loud - no,
For if I fail,
Again I'll face those rotten little trials,
Called the exams.
- Cissy Griffin
Mackay, Queensland, Australia. |
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