Bubble Rapt is a selection of short stories with a twist to leave you all tangled up like a tangly thing. The stories are mostly by me, bar one, which is extra special.
I’ve popped in a true tale by my Dad, Ray Goldsack, as he always wanted to be published, but didn’t quite get round to it before he died. There you go, Dad. It would have been his 79th birthday yesterday 🙂
Find out what happens to Robert, the coy carp, and Little Molly Plankton, and why Jenny Sanders is so Bubble Rapt!
I opened the little box, excited.
My eyes welled up when it revealed its secret.
Blue diamond sparkle as light touched gently.
You touched me gently; blue eyes sparkling.
My eyes welled up, revealing my secret.
I put the ring back in the box; exited.
There will never be one to match him for unconditional love
Others have tried before and since, but he was a cut above
No matter what I did or said, the twinkle in his eye
Told me he cared enough to let my peccadillos by
(Of which there were many, incidentally)
He would always look at me intently and occasionally frown
One look was all it took for me to know I’d let him down
Yet, still, he’d hold me to his heart – tell me all would be OK
Sometimes, he’d even shed a tear and look the other way
No man has ever measured up, nor come anywhere near
Maybe that’s why I changed my men every other year!
Searching for someone just like him, the perfect ideal
Now I’m older (and wiser?), I prefer to keep it real
The memories are kept alive through eyes with rosy tint
Eyes that reflect his gaze at me; (I have his cheeky glint)
It’s ten years now since he left the hole that nobody can fill
Dad, I miss you every day; no doubt I always will
Concrete jungle, land of my father
Morning fog across the harbour
Bamboo scaffold scraping skies
Skyscrapers compete for size
In a city constructed but never complete
Neon lighting electric dreams
Expansion taken to extremes
Dirty cockroach-infested alleys
Horses racing in happy valleys
Startled by guns in the searing noonday heat
Toothless drivers pulling rickshaws
Foreign devils on guided tours
Old colonials in safari suits
Street vendors selling oversized fruits
Sticky and smelly, durian putridity
Public transport most exemplary
All the buses; PL, K and C
Ferries cross harbours to islands green
Jetcats and foils to a land unseen
Through a wall of thick and stifling humidity
Sunset junk rides to fisherfolk cafes
Weekend getaways for office staff
Seaside seafood snacks served swiftly
Intoxication comes by briskly
Hungover Sabbaths, repenting intemperance
Clams (Hong Kong style) atop spaghetti
Feeling green on unsteady jetty
Welcome breezes from South China seas
On land, Wanchai bound, explicit sleaze
They love you long time for temporary romance
Backgammon, mahjong played in the dark
Slow motion throng, tai chi in the park
Harmonic movements, sight to behold
Aged acquaintances, teeth of gold
Cleansing beansprouts in baskets at first light of dawn
Pictures gleaned from numerous sources; may not be 80s/90s