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Streets Of The Soul By Paul McCann So what’s going on can you tell us desert flowers blooming in the dust , bush fires burning all the houses down ,...

This is a retread of an older poem; and I felt I had to finish it to stop me sinking further into despair.The worst of it is that we have close friends in the U.S. who are telling us that they no longer recognise their own country. And no guessing who the hurdy-gurdy man is. (Image courtesy of Wolfgang Eckert from Pixabay)

Reunion With Self I often wander off at obscure tangents when writing, which wasn’t helpful during my exam days! The temptation to be obscure and...

It was inevitable really wasn’t it, Vanessa thought as she logged off from work. She’d spent the afternoon in a haze of confusion, working through...

Snapping through the ribs was Aldus’ least favorite part of any procedure that called for it. While he was not a squeamish man, this being part of...

Oh I do like to be beneath the seaside.

Tarmac crackles under tyres, a beat that plays along to the radio, songs of now creating a disjoint. Songs of now that reflect a past, passed down...

As the dawn breaks and I am laying in bed and I touch your soft face and the sun slowly wakes I just want you you are my soul my day and my night my...