Cherrypicked stories
Drawn Like Knives
Drawn Like Knives (25th June 2008, 11.05am) Your innocence shaded in pencil by artistry greater than mine. I suppose I am pen and ink, just a series of stark little lines: blunt.
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- 1828 reads
Nightmare on Third Street - Chapter Thirteen
I spluttered out a choking gasp as I jumped back, away from the person.
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- 4 comments
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- 758 reads
On The Beach
I reached out Waiting for my hand To be slapped away As it had been before Even though mine was alone Despite being surrounded By silent stronger types You grabbed at me
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- 9 comments
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- 2466 reads
BUT YOU WERE LOVED
When “I love you” becomes “I loved you”, Warm feelings freeze into dismay. How can the one you want not want you, While love in your heart pounds away?
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- 1083 reads
Back the Strand
Seamus Heaney actually wrote to me to say he liked this one. "I like the movement of your poem. Nice and taut. And I like that “cloud chased Coomanaspig”"
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- 1764 reads
Semaphore
wandering down drills through redshank and nettle cabbage-whites bobbing, stray amongst the stalks, sticking the spade in and heaving the hoard-clutch, excavated
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- 1 comment
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- 1384 reads
Gone To Ground
We all know someone who takes themselves far too seriously. This is a fable about what happens to one such person.
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- 14 comments
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- 3950 reads
Sandpaper thoughts
We're all selfish you know....
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- 2 comments
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- 500 reads
Watch Out! Vikings!
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- 5 comments
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- 1380 reads
Nightmare on Third Street - Chapter Twelve
Elrick was lying on his back, his once lively eyes dull and glazed over in death.
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- 2 comments
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- 691 reads
Nightmare on Third Street - Chapter Eleven
The concert went smoothly enough, with me playing my solo and Joey had fun banging around on the drums, giving us the heartbeat of the entire performance.
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- 745 reads
My conception marks the end of progressive rock
My mother is a stack of ornately carved balsa. She is light but durable and, most importantly, noiseless. She has an expression of surprise.
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- 2 comments
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- 1018 reads
Blood on my hands
Blood on my hands (20th June 2008, 9.46am) It is to here that I have led my pride, Prepared a virgin sacrifice, Sharpened the sacrificial knife, Whitened the bleeding dish.
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- 7 comments
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- 2590 reads
Speakers Corner 10am
I left the doss house after breakfast that morning and went along Oxford Street to harvest my dog ends.
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- 822 reads
Decrepitude
In the back lot Behind an old grease factory A hulking metal shell Is trying its hardest to return To the earth from where it once came Rust flowers on its doors Have blossomed and climbed
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- 5 comments
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- 1838 reads
After You'd Gone
reworked since submitting - but just don't seem to be able to make this work
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- 9 comments
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- 2426 reads
Brewing
“Via is in danger,” Song said. ... “So the question arises: what are the roamers to do?”
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- 695 reads
THE PIE SHOP. Chapter Four. Ollie's story.
"Ollie's Mum came to see me today!" This news, given by my mother as she served our evening meal, was received by my family in silence.
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- 4 comments
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- 1651 reads
Vignette
a simple portrait - fading at the edges
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- 5 comments
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- 1346 reads
45 is NOT the new 35
A rant on the coming of middle-ages
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- 9 comments
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- 3584 reads