Author: gabrielsmy

A hundred identical hooks

Believe the unbelievable
Love hurts

The end begins
Every second counts

Get carried away
Justice is coming

No guts, no glory
Assume the position

Evil rises
Looks can kill

Once upon a time
Unlock the secret

Revenge is coming
Love is a force of nature

Journey beyond your imagination
No body is safe

Fear thy neighbor
Break the silence

There is no substitute
Hold your breath

If looks could kill
Believe

A hero will rise
A love story

Love stings
Be careful what you wish for

Blood is thicker than water
The con is on

There is no escape
Lead us into temptation

Every family has a secret
Are you in or out?

This place is so dead
The time has come

The ultimate battle begins
Everything will change

Fight fire with fire
Escape is the only solution

Life happens when you least expect it
No one gets out alive

There’s one in all of us
Nothing is as simple as black and white

A comedy for the romantically challenged
The end is near

Take a stand
No soul is safe

Love thy neighbor
Join the party

Fear nothing, risk everything
How far would you go for a friend?

There’s one in every family
The boys are back in town

The journey begins
The hunt begins

They are coming
Legends never die

The real ghost story
Heaven help us

There’s only one way out
Get in the game

Heroes aren’t born, they’re made
Revenge is a dish best served cold

Let the mind games begin
Fight or die

Get some
Time is running out

Everything you’ve heard is true
Catch her if you can

Enter at your own risk
Get in, get out

Everybody has a secret
It’s time to take a stand

It’s her world, we’re just living in it
Careful what you wish for

A comedy to arouse your appetite
Everything comes full circle

Some secrets are better left buried
This might hurt a little

A legend never dies
You are what you eat

Feel the love
Are you game?

We’ve all been there
There are no clean getaways

There goes the neighborhood
Something wicked this way comes

The legend comes to life
Everything is connected

You can’t choose your family
Trust no one

There are two/three sides to every (love) story

A list of identical taglines for pairs of different movies in a blog post by Christophe Courtois. Submitted by Mark Dzula.

Floral Tributes

The alternative is to
Pick tributes from your garden.
Seasonal wreathes, using ivy,
Berries and autumn colours
Look beautiful.
Foliage is always available
Even if there are no blooms.
Some families
Simply supply all the mourners
With a single seasonal bloom
To place upon the coffin.
Others choose a sprig of rosemary
That can be dropped into the grave.
The possibilities are endless.

From The Natural Death Handbook, 5th edition. Submitted by Karen JK Hart.

Sweet Thursday

What happened in between
the troubled life of Joseph and Mary

hooptedoodle
there would be no game.

Enter Suzy – the creative cross
tinder is as tinder does

the great Roque war
whom the gods love, they drive nuts

there’s a hole in reality through which
we can look if we wish.

Hazel’s brooding flower
in a crannied wall

parallels must be related:
lousy Wednesday: the playing fields of

Harrow: the little flowers of Saint Mack.
Suzy binds the cheese

a pause in the day’s occupation
sweet Thursday, sweet Thursday

sweet Thursday was
one hell of a day.

Chapter titles 1-21 from John Steinbeck’s 1954 novel Sweet Thursday. Submitted by Victoria Bean.

A simple little school dress

I love the simple style
of these check school dresses.
They look lovely on my granddaughter
     who is five
A pretty and practical design.

The yellow check is not often seen
in my local area
so I ordered on line
I bought three.
     One to wear,
          one in the wash
     and one ready to wear.

I know they will wash well
and keep their fresh look
as long as my daughter in law
     doesn’t throw the jeans
          in the wash as well.

Taken from an online review of a Marks & Spencer Classic Checked Dress, posted on 17th May 2014. Submitted by Uschi Gatward.

And That’s What It’s All About

Notes, instructions, etc.,
ring in the wee hours,
or while ill or forgotten,
robotic programming
for doing the hokey-pokey
Jackson Pollack-like.
There is no number one.
The only way he knew it’s got
to be a dance was finding
his cat covered in grits.
This makes me feel better.
That’s part of the mystery.

(A response to a friend’s Facebook post. Submitted by Howie Good)

Sticks and stones

Unfortunately it is far from true…
The power of words to affect
your emotions and actions
is well demonstrated in science.

A word is not a crystal,
transparent and unchanged;
it is the skin of a living thought
and may vary greatly in color and content
according to the circumstances and time
in which it is used.

Majority Floor Leader Jim Stamas, R-Midland,
determined Lisa Brown’s comments
violated the decorum of the House,
“What she said was offensive” said Rep. Mike Callton, R-Nashville.
“It was so offensive, I don’t even want to say it
in front of women.
I would not say that in mixed company.”

Lisa Brown called a press conference, today.
She defended her use of the word “vagina”
saying it is the “anatomically medically correct term.”

Her English teacher even told her
you can’t get wet from the word water.

Each stanza from a different source: Susan Smalley, Professor Emeritus, Department of Psychiatry and Biobehavioral Sciences at UCLA; Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr; Detroit News, June 2012; Detroit Free Press, June 2012; and Nin Andrews, Sleeping with Houdini (BOA Editions Ltd, 2008). Submitted by Joanna White.

Absent Father

I find myself here with a baby with delicate bones,
fine features and blue eyes, who – especially asleep,
when she’s at her most beautiful – looks exactly like you.
The fine movements of the lips, the almond-shaped eyes,
the one dimple on her right cheek.
I still find this resemblance strangely, unsettlingly painful.

I imagine you waking up beside that other woman,
whoever she might be; she will never find out
about this one aspect of your life.
I find it hard to picture you; I don’t know your apartment,
but I imagine you waking up in it, flat on your back,
elbow tucked beneath your head, thinking of your baby,
somewhere, with someone else, hundreds of miles away.

For a few minutes every once in a while,
more rarely each year,
and too briefly.

Taken from A letter to…my baby’s absent father in The Guardian, 7th June 2014. Submitted by Angi Holden.