Cherrypicked stories

Thesedays, I appreciate jumble sales for what they are to me and many others I've discovered. Jumble sales are memory graveyards. In and amongst the surface junk, every sale has items that come engulfed in the memory of something now gone. Whilst we never seek to forget our best memories, our difficult ones try to ensure we never forget them. They tie us to places, sounds, words and objects like a dog to a lead.

Complete reworking of my Leelu poem, with the spelling of the cat's name corrected. A Lai is something like aabaabaab stanzas, with the b line shorter than the a. Oh yeah, and the start makes more sense if you read 'Thoughts of Evilcat' first.

200 words.

I didn't want to be drugged. I wanted to be able to think. He wasn't going to let me.

It was late on a Saturday night in August and I wanted to drink

A speed poem using the word ramekin

I catch myself in a yawn on the elevator down to the ground floor of my dormitory. I woke up this morning laying on the floor, holding a pack of fruit gushers, and wearing my room mates underwear. That's your basic college blackout. Everyone else here is looking for the same thing; a release from the academic pressure. With my newly showered body and groggy demeanor I would have fit right in a few hours ago. I say a few hours ago, because right at the moment it's about half past one. There's an English class I'm supposed to be in haste to attend but I have a little cloud named hangover floating above me.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vita_Sackville-West

poem