Cherrypicked stories
The Interviewee (2045)
'So, is it switched on? ‘, I ask Angela, the manager of this place. I am having a test of the Skype link beforehand, as I have never been comfortable...
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- 1 comment
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- 644 reads
You Wouldn't Call It An Earthquake Exactly
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- 10 comments
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- 2780 reads
Beautiful Truth
Performance Poem see the link and listen rather than read. It is in French and English - credit to my sister Matilda for the beautiful translation.
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- 10 comments
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- 1646 reads
before she could not
Time slept away Scarred by dreams Swelled by sorry Blaze of golden autumn Slips green from the bed Skeletal, breastbone visible Grief roars in her...
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- 7 comments
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- 1583 reads
Two plus Two Makes Five
23) Jessica gets it wrong. (Flash fiction - 500 words)
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- 3 comments
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- 1013 reads
Dream with the breeze
Evening sunlight, escape and rise … – breeze waves the barley …
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- 8 comments
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- 2459 reads
Now the Cars Are Moving.
Caw, Caw, Caw... Image free for non-commercial use from MaxPixel.
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- 8 comments
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- 2917 reads
Grief is a Shower of Rocks
Grief is a shower of rocks Descending from the rolling clouds Which darkened the skies of my truth Each cusped and hard enough to Carve this strange...
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- 11 comments
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- 2819 reads
the in-between places
Leaving little behind with little to lose...
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- 7 comments
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- 1905 reads
Frequenters Of My Garden
For many a year watched crows fly against back drop white clouds...blue sky, They've had their share this my garden feast, hidden beneath blades...
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- 12 comments
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- 2410 reads
Iriecat
First garden tremble on kiss soft paddy paws to spine shake yawls I held you, I hold you your father You circle chased a squirrel, roared with joy on...
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- 17 comments
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- 7030 reads
Under glass
Come on, geranium, push!
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- 5 comments
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- 1159 reads
No love lost
Seems there's a lot of it around
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- 1 comment
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- 510 reads
Plans
I didn’t plan for any of this. I certainly didn’t dream for it. I didn’t spend my childhood daydreams thinking that this future would be waiting for...
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- 2 comments
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- 737 reads
Hockney and I
He’s always tricks of light, you know. Los Angeles, the East Yorkshire Wolds. Still acting out his naughty boy ways. The bug eyed, rabbit pulling...
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- 3 comments
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- 652 reads
We'll see you in April
When I answer my phone I have nothing to say and neither do they but it feels good to have my phone to my ear, like when I had a globe shaped pencil...
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- 3 comments
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- 800 reads
The Hairy Monk
re-sub, here already - and now permission to use this Monk art, by my arty monkey friend and sister -and by the woman for whom it was painted. Thank you both :)
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- 8 comments
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- 2007 reads
Sixty Minutes in Summer
Sitting on the bank of a somewhere river crushing dappled grass by the house boats. Eating smoked trout from plastic envelopes, salty oil coating our...
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- 15 comments
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- 2860 reads
I am Black and cannot Breathe
I am Black I can't breathe As my Black brothers and sisters Take their last breath I am left in shock I am Black I can't breathe Our necks are...
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- 10 comments
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- 3756 reads
Gliding Through Woods
Above rustling leaves on a hillside trail the wind is a vagabond of change; It begins to rain and wind a task-master as moisture arrives on land now...
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- 8 comments
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- 2619 reads