Cherrypicked stories

The hours went. Since I was sitting still, I listened to the rain’s uneven sounds, as if it answered to the wind’s remark. My book was dark. It’s...

Yeah

I always write something on National Poetry Day. This is this year's. Image taken by Humphrey Bolton, source: Wikipedia, licence: CC by 2.0

cold air's become a glitter ball with falling leaves its swirling lights as trees dance round their disco hall in fearful thrill of frosty nights now...

This is for all the gang in Jersey who kicked the proverbial out of it last weekend, as we always do. image under licence Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) image from https://www.flickr.com/photos/94775792 @N00 Daryn Nakhuda

I spread my love like jam Over toast without butter Covering the burnt bits Rhubarb and vanilla linger You pick out the pips I jab at crumbs with a...

Ah think ah’ve goat everythin. Two boatles ay ginger: wan, Irn-Bru , wan, Garvie’s Orange ; three packets ay biscuits: Toffeepops, an two ay mint...

A fleeting acquaintance can be memorable but will it be remembered? Strangers on a Street Rain cascades in near horizontal sheets, neon light dances...

Mary jumped back from the hole and went to Wong, always keeping that hole in the web in sight, as if the Monster would burst through any time. "Wake...