Hasan Abdulla
The Creative Pen Train
Poetry and Fiction Writer

     Welcome to the Creative Pen Train!


Hello and Welcome.  This website now serves as my author platform and is for the purpose of promoting and showcasing my fiction and poetry.  I look forward to constructive criticism and feedback particularly from editors and publishers. 


 

Works in Progress


The following are an excerpt each from my currently available short stories

 

Excerpt 1


The Rally

 

By H Abdul

 

(I certify that this is my original work and that any resemblance to anyone is completely unintended)

 

 

In a corner of a pebbled side street in Marseilles, a man aged twenty-five was seated clumsily on a small wooden bench. It was late evening when only a few people were returning to their homes from work. Jock Steed kept slumping forward frequently and his eyes were red, opening and closing frequently. The evening air felt acidic on his tongue with a mixture of the whiskey he was drinking and the odour of the sea weeds at the harbour twenty yards away. He mournfully sang to himself and lifted his bottle of whiskey occasionally at passers-by. His mahogany chinos and sand coloured sweatshirt were stained with his drinking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Excerpt 2



Defiance

 

By Hasan Abdul

 

(I hereby certify that this is my original work and any resemblance to any person is purely coincidental and unintended)

 

 

 

 

It was Monday, July 1956. The white shimmering sun cast its warm glow over the grassy lawns of Boston University, and cut through the shades of the few scattered oak trees that reached out to the clear blue canopy of the sky. On the lawn facing the main building the graduation ceremony took place with resounding success. Among the many alumni who had successfully gained their degrees were Robert and Joe Hawk. Some small beads of sweat trickled down the Dean’s forehead as he handed the two brothers their graduation prizes.

Suddenly a gush of wind passed within an inch of Joe, and he blinked sharply, turning his head. Immediately after, a loud squeal was heard which sent a shiver down his side. The hall fell silent, and looking out the large open window, a kite was seen flying off with its prey.  

There followed a pin drop silence, though no one cried at the graduation speeches. No one got drunk either or vandalised any property, whether students or academics. Within minutes the ceremony resumed and Robert and Joe received a particularly rapturous applause for each of their debut speeches, and both began to look forward to a career in Law.

 


A New R&B Sensation


This is to introduce Emile Sande,  a new R&B singer.  I cannot help but admire her first debut single, "Next to Me".  This appears to be a love song, but also equally qualifies as a powerful gospel song. 

The song was followed up by another moving song "Read all about it"

 What can I say but "Rock on Soul Sister!"  May she have many more hit songs to her credit.

IN MEMORIAM

This website is dedicated to a very special person in my life, my mother. She a real martyr against intense prejudice. She is the reason why I exist. 

About my work


My work is inspired by the writings of, among others, Raymond Chandler and F Scott Fitzgerald.  I began my creative work with writing song lyrics. In the 1980's I gained an A Level in English, and then turned my attention to poetry and short stories.  Then I began to read the novels of Raymond Chandler and the short stories of Ellery Queen, and Alfred Hitchcock as well as others such as Hemingway as well as a vast number of Victorian novels.


I won a runner up  prize  for an essay on Peace in the early 1980's and launched  my writing work with the motivation gained by this prize.

I got a favourable comment from a professional writer for a poem on the Virgin Mary and a four star rating for a short story entitled Danger Zone on a website entitled writing.com.  This helped me gain enormous confidence in writing.

About me:

 

Born in Nairobi, Kenya I had to leave my homeland (my natural mother was a coastal Kenyan) in 1969 at the age of 16. I stayed for a brief period in Nigeria at the time of the civil war. I also stayed in Jamaica for about four years. My father (of Iranian origin) had gained a teaching contract there at a High School. My brief stay in Nigeria was my first close hand experience of civil war.

 

I came to Reading UK in 1974, and have lived here ever since. I am qualified in AAT Accounts at Technician Level, although my work was in customer service.

 

Other than accounts, I am also schooled in Literature. This includes course credits in The Bronte’s, Shakespeare as well as in Literary Theory, gained from Oxford University at their Continuing Education department.

 

I currently write short stories and also have an ongoing project for book length fiction. The novel that is being prepared is a literary novel, and one of the themes is on domestic violence.

 

I began with writing crime fiction, as a result of reading a lot of this type of genre; my favourites are still Raymond Chandler, Dorothy L Sayers, and the Alfred Hitchcock mysteries. I now write literary fiction as a result of a fondness for the fiction writings of F Scott Fitzgerald, and recently William Faulkner. I also sometimes still write crime fiction.

 

Furthermore, I write some poetry. My poetry has mainly been “message” poetry concerning social issues, but recently I have broadened my scope to write with three types of poetic structure with a few different genres.

 

Occasionally I write non-fiction essays. However, the vast majority of these essays are my political views written from a Marxist perspective.

 

I am currently a member of The Writers Guild.

 

 

 






Photographs-Cambridge

The above photographs were taken in the city of Cambridge, UK.
B

When I arrived at the College campus, at the University of Cambridge, I was quite intrigued by the statues at the front entrance to Churchill College.  The statues were modern but at the same time were not vulgar or offensive.

When I checked in at the Porter's office, the Porter who checked my documents honestly thought I was a foreign student from overseas.  It took a slight bit of persuasion to convince him I am normally resident in Berkshire.

The porter provided accurate information as to how to get to my room where I was to stay for my holiday at the Campus grounds.  It seems they were confident of my ability to concentrate.

Throughout my holiday in the University I enjoyed the prices and the quality of the meals, the designs and paintings hung on the walls, and the large college campus grounds.

I also made the acquaintance of one or two College professors.
The City of Cambridge

Located at the back of a main shopping centre, the central library has some very good computers with powerful processors, and is well lit and well furnished.

The cafes and restaurants are somewhat expensive, though they provide value for  money.  As I expected, the Italian restaurants are overly generous with the amount provided for each meal purchased.

The transport to and from Churchill College was not as frequent as I had hoped.  Nevertheless, the citilink buses are very affluent in the interior.

The city centre has two main shopping plazas, each bigger than the Oracle and Broad Street Mall in Reading.

I was struck by the number of city parks, all larger than I had expected.

Most of the other University Campuses are in the city centre and I enjoyed taking snapshots of them with my digital camera.
The picture above is of one of the Cambridge University Colleges.  
Sculpture-Modern
This sculpture was photographed on the Churchill College campus.  It struck me as new and innovative.  Simple in design, it symbolises some interesting geometric concept.  It took some time for me to appreciate the skill behind the statue, not being an artist myself.

From the Briefcase:


Poetry


The Rent

 

 

Damp is returning. I’m frowning

Seeking work, nothing coming

Funds are low, the bank

Threatens more and more

With no one else to help

I’m trembling more and more

 

I’ve got to do something now

 

I’ve spent lots on education

To feed my intellect

Make my skills perfect

Spending plenty cash on food

Going here and there for a job

Rejections arrive by the score

Emptiness in my flat, my home

Bitterness cuts me to the bone

 

I’ve got to do something now

 

That clock looks shining

Clean, gold plated. Looks new

I ought to sell it. Pawn it

For many a dollar, not few

It’s getting late. I should rush

Almost sold it, face is in a flush

 

I’ve got to do something now

 

© “The Rent” by Hasan Abdulla, 07/2016

 

 

 

 

 

 



 


Poem:


A Delicate Being

 

 

 

Why is everybody picking on me? Always

The teacher is hollering, shouting

“Why can’t you learn. Why don’t you see?

The answers are messy, and lacking

In any sense I can imagine”

Could someone please ask him

 

Why is everybody picking on me?

 

Going home on a summer stroll

Boy, it could have been fun

Soon the heat, took its toll

I hear a loud shotgun

I run for life, run for shelter

I bump into a police officer

He arrests me on the spot

I tell him, I’m drunk because it’s hot

 

Why is everybody picking on me

 

In the prison cells so tough

These jailbirds look rough

I take the medicine I’m given

Then released, and forgiven

Back home in his nest

A robin alone in his nest

To isolate him is a crime

We are two of a kind

 

Why is everybody picking on me?

 

© “A Delicate Being” by Hasan Abdulla

 

 



This is where I sometimes visit Oxford for lectures.  This is a location of a division of Oxford University for the not so young.

An Evening Rendezvous

 

 

Strolling along the river

Blue rippling waters, white swans

Floating downstream, together

In pairs. Warm sun on my cold arms

 

You were walking with caution

Sombre, attentive for any sign

My heart swelled with emotion

Looking at your solitude, like mine

 

We walked across each other

Yet managed only a smile

For a moment, I felt warmer

But we drifted apart, for a while

 

We come and go, with scarce a word

A love affair, few have ever heard

 

© “An Evening Rendezvous” by Hasan Abdulla, 07/2016

 


Dream Girl

 

I’m floating as in a dream

Scents of rose blossoms, everywhere

She appears, my beauty queen

Like a mirage. Then she will disappear

 

She haunts my night, my day

I hear her words of love

All along life’s lonesome highway

She remains my golden dove

 

She stands by me, all along

All through the days, and years

With her, I have no fears

My princess; she does no wrong

 

Yet all through please understand

She’s an image in a foreign land

 

© “Dream Girl” by Hasan Abdulla, 07/2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sailboat

 

 

The sailor, opening his drink

Sips his bottle of soda, he’s thinking

About a sailboat he had seen sink

Gazing at the sunset, he’s mourning

 

Remembers the parties on the boat

Always it sailed, always afloat

Pangs of sorrow, that are emerging

The sailor, opening his drink

 

Looks back at the past

Some things would always last

Tries not to be pitying

Sips his bottle of soda, he’s thinking

 

Of many an ocean liner

Yet none lovely and finer

Remembers as he takes his drink

About a sailboat, he had seen sink

 

The coast was warm that day

Strong winds blew its way

The sailboat drowned. Remembers sombrely

Gazing at the sunset, he’s mourning

 

© “Sailboat” by Hasan Abdulla, 07/2016

 

 

 

 

 

A Day at Work?

 

 

On a bright Sunday morning

Opening a door to a garden

The sun is hot, and rising

 

The flowers bloom everywhere

And church bells are chiming

On a bright Sunday morning

 

Life is still a burden

Going out today to work

Opening a door to a garden

 

The morning is long and tiring

With lunch, sipping a cold lemonade

The sun is hot, and rising

 

© “A Day at Work?” by Hasan Abdulla, 07/2016

 

 

 

 

 

Travel Notes

A Dream Destination
A Visit to Cambridge

A

 On the 6th of July this year, 2012, I went to the Railway Station in Reading to start a journey to one of my dream destinations, namely Cambridge. It would be the first train ride for several years, the previous one being to London.  I reached an excessively busy platform where trains were arriving and leaving for Paddington, London every ten minutes or so.  Not having travelled by rail for some years, I did not realise I had to change stations at Paddington for Kings Cross.  As a result  I faced a delay of some hours before finally heading off for Cambridge where the famous University is located.

At my arrival at Paddington Station, I thought I would be able to take a British Railways train or at least a shuttle to Kings Cross.  I had forgotten and indeed was disappointed at having to use the London Underground just to change to the Kings Cross Station. After all, it had been such a long time since I travelled by rail.

When I arrived at Kings Cross station I was impressed by the size, aspect and the neatness of the station, notwithstanding the fact that the station was being refurbished.  I took the first direct train to Cambridge and I enjoyed the ride.

The train ride to Cambridge was more than adequate compensation for the inconvenience of changing stations from Paddington to Kings Cross.

As the train rode along the tracks towards the city of Cambridge, I looked out and saw the gently sloping countryside with its alpine green vegetation, some small villages, and clusters of dark green trees dotted around the landscape.  It became clear to me why the environmental campaigners have such a deep passion for their overall objectives.

When I arrived at the Cambridge Central Railway Station, it was different to what I had imagined, and instead was a very open aired, well maintained railway station.

After checking out, I was skeptical at first about taking a taxi, but was lucky enough to meet a taxi driver who was efficient and reliable, and did not underestimate his fare charge.



C

On the day of my return journey, I woke up exceptionally early and checked in at the Porters office to leave.  However he persuaded me to wait and have breakfast before leaving to which I reluctantly agreed.  After having breakfast in the usual dining hall, I headed off for the city centre by bus to the rail station.

On reaching the city centre I decided I would go straight to the Railway Station instead of lingering around first in the shopping area.

I boarded a busy train to Kings Cross which was rather crowded.

After changing at Kings Cross to Paddington Station, I boarded the train to Reading. On reaching Reading itself, I was confronted with the same usual noises of traffic and road repairs, and once again settled for the idea that "now I found that the world is round, and of course it rains every day."  (as sung by the Bee Gees).

Poem:

Magic Tambourine


Pictures of life in a mansion

A courtyard of plenty

Walking around in a rose garden

Having fun, not being thrifty

 

Dreaming away for a life

Amid crowds and a limousine

A rich and pretty wife

Famous with my Magic Tambourine

 

One day I’ll play to crowds

Earn vast and many fortunes

But I awake, all is in shrouds

All around, angry thumping tunes

My music is but a dream

Antique is my Magic Tambourine

 

Yesterday I had the song

Of love and happiness

Now it all seems wrong

All is regret and bitterness

 

On my shelf the Magic Tambourine

In my heart, a yearning

Not for wealth, nor singing

But a pure, humble life supreme


Poem:

Sea Bird




Sea gulls above the ocean
The ship is sailing the seas
As it sails, memories
Come with tearful emotion

An albatross flying within sight
Sings the songs of solitaire
Smooth and graceful his flight
Transfixed, I stand and stare

Evening shadows are falling
On an ocean deep and vast
The sailors are calling
To lower the mast

But my mind is fully dazed
With the winged giants image
All is become crazed
The ship seems savage

A storm mounts with full might
Waves beat against the ship
The sailors toss, some trip
The day is turning to night

Ocean waters splash on board
Sailors suffer injuries untold
No sign of harbor or shore
Gales blow hard, and even more
Tempests shake and torment all
The soul awakened to heavens call

The men who steer, struggle to stand
On a floor awash, with salt and sand
Hopes of survival disappear
The albatross flies without fear

Time stands  still, darkness all around
The winds howl, the water splashes
Hope is nowhere to be found
The ship against a rock it crashes

Against a piece of rock  I cling
No sign of life, I see nothing
The light goes out, and I feel
The grip of talons like steel

Sunrise slowly begins to glow
I find myself on a small boat
Adrift without anyone I know
Except a stranger, keeps us afloat

In the near distance, a beach
I see land within reach
Soon, the stranger pulls his oar
And then we are on solid shore

Looking at sky and sea
I am lost in a daze
Above the clouds I see
The albatross in a haze
My eyes become misty
I marvel at God's infinite bounty











About the above Poem

The above poem relates to the proverb "A Friend in Need is a friend Indeed" and is inspired by the famous poem by Coleridge entitled "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner". At the same time, I would like to think of it as somewhat more optimistic than the famous Epic by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  Hope you all like it, and remember feedback is most welcome at the e-mail address below.
Along the river, a view from a bridge in Cambridge, United Kingdom
The Forbury Gardens
On the road to the railway station, at one side is the Forbury Gardens in Reading, UK

Works in Progress

 

 

Current available story submissions:

 

The Rally

 

This short story centres on the theme best depicted in the words of the French philosopher Montesquieu when he referred to lust and its violent consequences as “the silent crime”.

 

The location is set in Marseilles, France although most of the story is outside the motor rally stadium. (Furthermore, some of the characters are not of French origin.)

 

This story belongs to the crime fiction genre.

 

For further details about this short story please contact me at:

 

Stormabdul99@hasanmgm.net

 

Defiance


This short story is set in 1950's United States.  It is about two University Graduates, both of the same family, who become involved politics due to a careless outburst of speech by the younger brother.  While they are being subjected to a witchunt, a refugee from Europe becomes attracted  to left wing ideology, and is the only witness who can testify in favour of the two brothers.  At the last moment, the refugee, an orphan saves their lives. 


For further details please contact me at


stormabdul99@hasanmgm.net


 To be Followed by:

 

A: The Scholars

 

The location setting for this short story is New Haven, USA. The theme of the story is inspired and contained in the famous quote by Rousseau:

 

“Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains.”

 

Lorenzo, a graduate of Italian origin, arrives at a reunion party where he looks forward to some enjoyment. Things go unexpectedly wrong when he attracts the attention of a former female classmate. She is a young widow, but the risk is that she has a weakness for alcohol. To add to his problems, she has a jealous admirer, also a former classmate.

 

To be followed by:

 

B: Danger Zone

 

Danger Zone was first written in early 2006, and the setting for the story is Londonderry, Ulster (Britain). This story, a semi-thriller, is planned for rewriting and editing due to the many inconsistencies in its initial form.

 

The story’s theme is centred on the harsh conditions experienced by those in poverty, especially the unemployed. As such there is scarce mention of the sectarian disputes and violence that has plagued Northern Ireland. Thus, in place of the story being a political thriller, the theme is based on the very well-known proverb:

 

“What you sow you reap” and the antagonist that sows so much hatred and pain faces a bitter end.

 

 

C: The Interns

 

This short story project is due to begin as soon as the rewriting of Danger Zone is completed.

More Poems:


A Flight

 

 

Rome, capital of Italy

Flying there on a plane

Away from life so lonely

I’ll go where stops the pain

 

For I love with strong passion

A dark eyed glamorous girl

I love her with strong devotion

Stronger than stones of pearl

 

The departure lounge is restive

My heart is light, festive

Flying to Rome, to Italy

So ends a life of drudgery

 

Away from cloudy skies; persistent rain

To be with the light of my life again

 

© “Excursion” by Hasan Abdulla, 07/2016

 

Condor

 

 

A condor, flying; cruising across the sky

Gigantic; searching for fertile pasture

Majestic; to vie with, we can only venture

 

 

Across the Orinoco, and the Atacama

Over the Andes; Only it knows why

A condor, flying; cruising across the sky

 

 

Long is the journey to travel

The mysteries, it can unravel

Gigantic; searching for fertile pasture

 

 

At long last, it’s journey’s end

Fertile pasture, as only God can send

Majestic; to vie with, we can only venture

 

© “Condor” by Hasan Abdulla, 07/2016