Cherrypicked stories

After Heraclitus

Dark nights, writing by the light from my desk lamp, fuelled by a glass of Laphroaig. I could not be in a better place. If any of you are unlucky enough not to have read Mary Oliver's Wild Geese (to which in many ways this poem is a sort of homage), you are truly missing out on one of the 20th century's greatest poems.

https://soundcloud.com/rhiannon-weber/a-glimpse-of-the-months-of-the-year These were done as a collection nearly four years ago. It was suggested...

With apologies for my (poor) sound recording. This is the best I can do.

Saturday 10 th August 2019 Dear diary...at last beauty can be viewed from our conservatory, able to see adorned limbs interwoven, roses climbing up...

the sun is falling below the gravestone, he made 83 when I was two i expect the sun is falling everywhere and none of it means a thing stones words...

Re-posted in response to this week's IP - now available on Soundcloud. Link in text - despite repeated efforts, the link won't work when pasted here. Image: Author's own

It ain’t what it’s cracked up to be, Champagne; It bigs you up; but drink too much - It brings you down again. It makes you laugh as bubbles burst...

The kid from the metsickan house across the street told me come play with him today so I went inside to ask her. She told me no and what’s wrong with...