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The difference
The difference Us, often storm love in true form versus attachment an emotional element in our perception as one has to shun the attachment as...
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- 475 reads
The Window Of My Dreams
The Window Of My Dreams By Paul McCann You do the things that others won’t , when others do me wrong you don’t You’re the unseen one in between , the...
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- 1368 reads
Bang bang bang went the gunpowder
Everything is sad now apart from the happy things so I guess we can concentrate on those. It will all be over soon, a nun tells me, every day when I...
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- 423 reads
Cut my hair put on a shirt
You tell me about your previous client a regular, one of your first customers from 1999. You make it clear you don’t often talk about people who come...
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- 602 reads
iBreast
iBreast my bra flies parachutes when thrown at your head you catch it howzat! smell the cups for the ghosts of my breasts there was a time when i...
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- 411 reads
to Saffron
you enchant me you’ve left me and properly should be past tense but you still enchant me I wish I knew why I am chuckling at you filling our pond...
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- 414 reads
still life
still life walking an empty pathway filling poignant silences with nervy nonsenses in a pool of darkness between two lampposts’ yellow light Rebekah...
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- 282 reads
Salterhebble
Light at the end of lockdown tunnel
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- 1 comment
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- 749 reads
Leech of the World, Chapter 5, Part 2
It was about time this enigmatic enemy made its appearance as trees fell and the stomping was getting louder and louder. A shiver went through her...
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- 355 reads
Shadowlands
My shadow, weight bearer (Own image)
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- 1 comment
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- 789 reads
Still The Same
. Still The Same By Paul McCann Today I thought of you and the things we used to do , what ever happened to all those people that we knew , in my...
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- 4 comments
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- 900 reads
Sugar and Spice
Once upon a time, I had a massive crush on Danelaw Smith. I was twelve, and he must have been about twenty-something. And he wasn’t exactly all that...
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- 621 reads
coming of age in Oxford
February gives way to March slinking off with withered memories of childhood fun, schoolboy ambitions, hope-fuelled dreams adulthood lurks at the...
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- 356 reads
Yikes
A tadpole is size ‘very small’ yet large enough to be seen by predators. One wiggled his way into liberated living away from his school-friends...
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- 4 comments
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- 1332 reads
Under the Redwoods...
My hand upon it; I feel its warmth; its rough bark is pliant under my hand. I feel the breeze as the branches above move with the wind. I look up and...
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- 10 comments
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- 3571 reads
Crazy Diamond
If only my parents could see me now: a pint of lager, a packet of ten Sovereign, the Pokemon-stickered guitar, the old NYC baseball cap still glued...
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- 10 comments
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- 2446 reads
Black Beauty
Black Beauty Cherish I still my childhood thrill when a tale I tell when a poem I spell then the applause despite the flaws. much of it I owe to the...
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- 2 comments
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- 950 reads
A Runaway Writer
. A Runaway Writer By Paul McCann I’m becoming invisible , watch me disappear , I can drift off into a world of my own where there’s nothing to fear...
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- 4 comments
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- 1104 reads
Recycling. Upcycling. Part Three..
My name is Mrs Red Capped-Robin and my neighbour is called Mrs Jones. She’s a lovely Bird, small and not like me who like to have the latest fad, and...
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- 4 comments
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- 1199 reads