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Green Velvet and a Winter Fire

Green velvet dressed foot curled sofaed up white wine reached between best books and most favoured poems your head rested on the chairback smiling in profile slightly outside the pool of light

Missing Muse

Geisha eyes ivory grace crimson lips precisely curved hands like a floating leaf hide a joke tender neck bowed a fan tucked into a sweep of sleeve. tea proferred perfectly and saki refilled

Howl

I want to howl "Munch" crisp aisle scream cry til my head hurts face purples and I throw up break things smash them throw Teddy on the fire sob wet myself bang my head on the wall tear out hair

If you like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain...

This is chapter six from a girly, romantic comedy novel I am working on. Three girls go on holiday to the Dominican Republic and the story tells of their adventure there. The main character, Clara, is an independent 20 year old who is single and enjoying it, until she falls for someone on holiday. It challenges her views on love and life as she meets the man of her dreams...or so she thinks.

Goodnight

From force of light That wake me calm Bid black goodbye And demons goodnight
Cherry

She read to me

and by the time she had reached the final rhyming couplet

THOUGHTS ON ART

read this if you cinsider yourself an artist So what does it mean then to do art inspired by faith? It means to be tuned to such a degree that higher energy would flow into you; it means as an artist you have to be humble because you understand that what is given to you is not yours to have but to pass on. In this way art turns out to be an attempt to break the boundaries of day-to-day existence and self in a way that reaches out for the unreachable

Tattoo

Letter "A" across my chest A permanent tattoo Symbol of my anguish Body branded-stained with blue

Tales of the Tree

"Grandfather, the little blonde haired girl asked as she came into the room, "what's this? She held up a plain wooden box, unadorned save for heavy black hinges and an intricate lock. "Grandfather? Are you alright? The old man caught his breath as the awful fear that had clutched his heart lessened a bit.

This Place

Where is 'This Place'?

Pictures on the Wall

Love and Loss.

Keep fit? How?

We all know that keeping fit keeps all kinds of dieseases and medical problems at bay. But what kind of exercise should we take up? Is it necessary to run around the block or pump iron? In short, the answer is No!
Cherry

A son is home for Christmas

He came down for Christmas eagerly awaited by both, dumb to each other for years but resounding for him, their very own City boy. They swaddled him in praise, stroked his ego, him, love-soaked, befuddled,

Just Another War

How can we possibly imagine? ---------------------------------------- I look out of the window to see a sun shine, My children in a library, a million books define, An accumulation of knowledge, an acknowledgement to men,
Cherry

Schism

On the corner of St Jude and St Thomas, a group of teenagers were dancing around a car that they had set ablaze. Spencer paused for a while to watch them, enjoying the heat from the flames. As he warmed himself, he heard the ubiquitous swooping noise of air being expelled from vertical engines, and looked up to see an angel coming in to land.

Descent

First 3 paragraphs of a tale dealing with a mental asylum, loss of memory and a smoking ban. "I suppose it was inevitable that giving up the one thing I knew was right would make it all seem so much worse but it was also the only thing I remember doing before I woke up here 9 days ago with no discernable memory, a slightly charred bespoke black suit, a nearly full pack of Malboro, and a silver zippo. "
Cherry

Rachel Donnelly's Dad

It wasn't long after my fifteenth birthday when I decided I was old enough to start going to pubs. Despite the law's view on this it didn't take much for me to convince my friend Ali Morrison, also recently turned fifteen, that he was old enough too. It was a pity that the bouncers of those pubs commonly frequently by the town's borderline age drinkers didn't agree. A Friday night spent traipsing round Ballymena soon let us know that it would be a few more years before we would be welcome in any of the town's licenced premises. Except here, in Mc Attamney's, a small side street pub we didn't know existed until then.

The Rider on the Wheel

And the Rider at the Wheel, in spite of how fucked-up everything currently feels, is doing the same speed as always: it's only in your head that things are speeding up or slowing down.

The Clumsy Elf

"Tell us a story, Aquamarine," the young elvlings pleaded, pulling at the forest green tunic of the short, ungainly elf. He smiled, shrugged his muscular shoulders in resigned amusement, and putting an arm around the shoulder of the most insistant youngster, he escorted the children to a stone bench wreathed in ivy. Gently, almost reverently, he pushed away enough of the persistant vine to clear himself a place to sit. Good. Now he was ready to accommodate his eager audience.

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