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Memories of London
Memories of prologues and cities
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- 3656 reads
Secret Thing
Is something really happening&;#063;
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- 685 reads
DREAMING THOUGHTS
DREAMING THOUGHTS MY MIND WANDERS BETWEEN SLEEP AND WAKE, THOUGHTS OF LOVE, PAST PLEASURES, WAR, CORKSCREWED THROUGH MY ACTIVE CONCIOUS A...
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- 505 reads
Roni and I
How justifiable is crime&;#063; Sometimes crime is born out of love and anguish.
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- 557 reads
My Sister
When we came home from school we two to the kitchen we headed without further ado. Unbelievably peckish I remember we were, our hungry stomachs all...
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- 869 reads
B: Lonely people 2
Morning in London awaiting the rush
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- 655 reads
Paul's Prayer to a Bear
My other surviving childhood poem (I still like it!)
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- 509 reads
The cupboard
The Cupboard. "The cupboard could do with a lick". You said. We dug out the paintbrushes from The cellar, If only things were so simple. The...
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- 606 reads
My Grumbles
I wrote this when I was 9 (and I haven't improved much!)
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- 520 reads
B: Week two
My life as a parent Dylan has developed a fixation with nipples and tails this week. He's convinced, although all the evidence points to the contrary...
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- 560 reads
10 perfect fingers and 10 perfect toes
cold white light and in the haze ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes eyes forever closed mind screamed in corner cower and hurt huddled breaking...
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- 1382 reads
A - Chapter One
It all starts here...
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- 2806 reads
A: Week one
My life as a parent I'm settling into the horrible realisation that I am not going to be able to drink myself under the table on my 30th birthday. It...
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- 591 reads
Hand of God
I blew out the candle with nervous breath. We have been waiting so long for a son Or daughter. My Will, he clasped my hand under the blanket As we...
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- 919 reads
Dust to Man
So, here I am, standing one day. On a street. On a parched pavement. I say. It is hot. It is Verdant. With sinews green and tangling Torsos brown and...
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- 925 reads
November Mourning
A teardrop seed Of a painful Sorrow Planted in a heart Overwhelmed, and Weeping I still reflect your Presence in this November. In grief, my heart...
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- 605 reads
Stones Over Sand
The concrete swirls of Beige and maroon marks Of mendacity; in being Plush and plutocratic, With the whispers of Sea-scented breath In paradoxical...
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- 642 reads
Asylum
A Shade of Inevitable muteness of an asylum; The cause of the Iniquity Blanketing all over. In solitude, I smile with tears of hesitation. In this...
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- 623 reads