Cherrypicked stories
Ars Amatoria
The first chapter of a failed love story. Post modern, cynical and hopefully funny!
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- 4 comments
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- 1479 reads
On Turning Sixty
The rewards of being sixty.
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- 7 comments
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- 4269 reads
He Loves Me... He Loves Me Not...
He loves me not... Wordless whispers through the trees Softest grass beneath my knees Buttercup decide my fate Hoping that it’s not too late. He loves me... Losing him I cannot bear
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- 12 comments
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- 3899 reads
.Street.Lights.
one winged bird, so fast, a blur, bruises are beginning to blossom on my pelvis.
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- 1 comment
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- 1045 reads
Crematorium
Is this everything - your name printed on paper two bunches of flowers and thirty-one people with your genes? Stories were never written on a string of DNA.
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- 4 comments
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- 2550 reads
Longs Close
It is not you I mourn but the walk to your house through the wheat on Dodds lane and the haze on Pyrford roads in high summer. Now, bereft of my place in those times
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- 6 comments
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- 5170 reads
Bye Ways
Don't let the last words you say be angry ones...
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- 16 comments
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- 6638 reads
The Baroness Mk2.
Second attempt.
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- 14 comments
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- 5566 reads
Chapter Four: Being Pregnant is a Joy!
Kate is convinced she is pregnant by Tiny Penis. But she continues to carry her secret around until she knows for sure. Meanwhile her poor brother George wrestles with the future.
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- 6 comments
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- 3893 reads
Time means nothing here
When time collapses on itself, and now and then co-exist.
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- 4 comments
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- 2006 reads
Desert Blooms
Not entirely autobiographical...
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- 3 comments
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- 1372 reads
That Summer!
You leaned out on the branch, sniffing the pink(ish) flower. A bee lodged in your left nostril and stung you till it died; you fell to the ground screaming.
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- 11 comments
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- 4359 reads
Eight Foot Blue - 5
I wanted to say do you think that she could love me, and how exactly can you catch a shark?
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- 4 comments
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- 2216 reads
Whoever stole the speedboat
To whoever stole the speedboat - I want you to know you ruined Easter. I know some facts; you listen to classical music, you like orange things,
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- 4 comments
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- 1742 reads
Its been lonely in the stables since the horse died
I spilt milk on all the C.Ds, painted you a picture with my fingertips in which Sienna, you are the Eiffel Tower. I invited loads of people to the party, sat down
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- 3 comments
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- 1622 reads
Seasonal Fruits
My idea of where I came from, was completely influenced by our hindi films. I wasn't completely sure whether my mother knew the procedure of my conception.
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- 4 comments
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- 1981 reads
Life Lessons
I saw her last week on a bench. I couldn’t stand the awful stench. I looked away and hurried by, and didn’t look her in the eye. Her clothes were made of tattered rags,
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- 8 comments
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- 2845 reads
Reithian Principles
Poetry week on the Beeb...
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- 2583 reads