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A bit of fun
Ghosts Competition Entry (1022 words)
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- 398 reads
Winter Zhounds
The coldness of New England, the hard-workers and their realism, their faces lined with deep thoughts.
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- 676 reads
Colour poems
I hate this poem, but I almost feel an obligation to it, because it was the lucky one that got published. I still hate it.
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- 729 reads
Carol
Whale, beached out of the soothing rough of the waves, do you weep? For I grow under your thick skin, like a lily-pod. There is no time for you to be...
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- 914 reads
Our
Without rain, our garden seems to sag, the middle of an older bed. Innocence, a child with a purple ball thrown over the hedge, knocks at the back...
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- 915 reads
Boxed
My summer would fit Crushed up small in a box, Insignificant in its coffin, If it had blisters and chlorine, From swimming in my shoes One day, after...
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- 681 reads
Scents of Summer
I asked, quite simply, That I should have that chance. You were unexpected. Betrayal, almost, in your smile, And I remembered Those tangerine...
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- 616 reads
S
i write my 's's backwards sometimes, just to feel the irregularity funny: maybe laughing at myself in silence.
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- 977 reads
Phone Home
I will call you today From a phonebox somewhere Revelling in the anonymity. I have a quarter in my pocket But it will work Despite being foreign...
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- 576 reads
Politically Scandalous
This story contains Drugs, sexual content, or strong language. It is not for minors. Protect yourself From my flagrant badness- It may be infectious...
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- 578 reads
Backstage, Theatre Royal, York
sometimes i feel i sink underneath the swell of theatre - moments in the dark, and on yellow-lit stairs, glass doors.
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- 871 reads
A measure of love
You measure love, Dripping, like time, in crystal droplets By messages left, pin marks in the door. 'I'm so popular,' you told me, Not believing it...
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- 620 reads
Yellow Buddlea
It's an exercise we did in English. You get given a flower and then you have to Put Your Flower Down On Paper.
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- 608 reads
For the train
I am waiting At the station For a train which Hasn't come. It is late (Too late, can't turn Back, forwards, for me) And my mother has Strict words...
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- 599 reads
Unfinished
Odd and rambling. I know it's confusing; I just had too many ideas in my head at one time.
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- 593 reads
Remembrance
Every day she writes him a letter. The sad, heavy truth of this never fails to steal a breath from her throat, but she still curls her paling fingers...
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- 571 reads
Tangerine Summer
The bones of summer Were in the sun, A peeled grape in the sky, Side heavy, like the moon- In a game I played When I was very small, Tea leaves in a...
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- 637 reads
Sleepless nights
The moon rises, pale faced, Upon my broken German. My throat is frozen at this time, A marble pillar of salt. If you count my indiscretions, Which...
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- 493 reads
My Grandmother's Voice
I would give anything to hear my grandmother's voice again
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- 871 reads
XamaX Codex
Philemon Nostradame and The XAMAX codex. Mortal is the limitation of the sign -the human need to scroll!
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- 471 reads