Cherrypicked stories
SF. Pt. 15. Pink flamingos, swivel guns and batshit.
Oscar comes up with a plan of sorts.
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- 12 comments
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- 4470 reads
'Only God When he's Drunk'
"Don't you know there ain't no..' Tom Waits 'Heart Attack and Vine'
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- 6 comments
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- 2064 reads
Ninety-four Year Old Eyes
Grandpa Jose, my paternal grandfather, lives in our house. I go to his room every now and then to check on him and today I know he couldn't catch a glimpse of me.
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- 1012 reads
Strange Little Bloke
Why is it when you want to be left alone, that is when you're likely to attract the strangest folk.
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- 16 comments
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- 6519 reads
The Problem Of Time And Memory Lost
I like to think of that watch still lying buried on the river bed!
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- 4 comments
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- 2187 reads
NOBODY AND NO-ONE
Nobody’s felt you have nice eyes.
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- 4 comments
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- 2045 reads
Umlaut
Slightly strange poem about the humble German symbol, the umlaut.
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- 3 comments
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- 2321 reads
Wordsworth's Secret
Rhythm spreads from the poem in rings, vibrating the water, kissing my toes in iambic pentameter. It congregates around the couplet of my ankles.
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- 16 comments
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- 7482 reads
Bridge 1
Start of something...
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- 10 comments
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- 4332 reads
Eight Foot Blue - 2
Lily looked at me as if to say, hey you’re just a boy, and I’m a girl, and you’re shorter than me, so how could I possibly be interested in you?
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- 5 comments
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- 2540 reads
A Rising Star
A story of our times.
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- 6 comments
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- 3655 reads
Lust: A Terzanelle
This is an exercise I tried in the terzanelle form; not sure how well it works...
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- 8 comments
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- 3726 reads
The Magician's Assistant
Competition Entry. Zoe proves to be rather careless.
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- 9 comments
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- 4939 reads
The Gift
a short poem about...
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- 11 comments
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- 6156 reads
The Paradox of His Detachment Stirred Her Curiosity
She tried to understand He was trying to forget
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- 6 comments
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- 2586 reads
For Whom the Cicada Sings
“I ask you. What finer way to die than as a hero?"
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- 7 comments
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- 2683 reads
Quarter to Zero Hour
Competition Entry
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- 15 comments
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- 5926 reads
Steph & Lara
It was like leaving some sort of formal dinner, with handshakes and hugs, and kind exchanges of smiles - although we were leaving a crack house.
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- 8 comments
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- 2996 reads
Doctor Zoot
something... or nothing...
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- 6 comments
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- 2735 reads