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the persistence of memory

this piece was written after viewing salvador dali's art peice, the persistence of memory."!

An Ode to Tolerance

Inside the cloth is another side of character – avarice meanness and skullduggery

A Tall Man With Sticky-out Ears, A Gammy Leg And A Black Eye Carrying A Mannequin And A Rubber Plant (Part Two)

"This scenario is so improbable no one could possibly predict it unless they possess genuine psychic powers – even you'll grudgingly admit that."

A Tall Man With Sticky-out Ears, A Gammy Leg And A Black Eye Carrying A Mannequin And A Rubber Plant (Part One)

“Thank you so much, young man,” the elderly woman said as they reached the stairway leading to the flats over the shops where she lived.

Constantinople

A little girl with neglectful parents tells of how she coped in the 1970s

Sunset

You'll have to read it to see it ;-)
Gold cherry

Hyde Park

We marched to Hyde Park. We marched to nothing.

POEM: Tell Me.

Blinded by the light of unrequited love.

Trevor's Troubles

Sometimes things are just not what you want them to be, but only one person can change them...

How could I know my lost aunt could be found on the tv

The day I re-connected with my paternal family, lost for decades, has to be one of the happiest moments of my live.
Cherry

The Accompanist

A little night music
Cherry

Little Bird

(Edit) A fledgling fallen from the nest.
Cherry

The Gamesmakers

She went home, sat on the settee, looked at the photo of Eddie and her on their wedding day.

Gliding hands

a rose is no rose

Grasp

grasping for something, but the words do not answer

Thunderhead (Part Two)

“A woman, a man and two children, a teenage girl and a kissy-faced little baby,” he said to his comrades, the rain running down his face in rivulets. “My sensitive nose never lies."
Cherry

Thunderhead (Part One)

“It's sad when a traveller doesn't make it,” he croaked in a voice like rustling autumn leaves as he turned the pale stillborn over in the mud with the tip of his shoe.

Droog

A poem on my hatred of an infernal critic of mine; nothing personal. Enjoy writing friends!

Memories are made of this

I thought our daughter's wouldn't get drunk but...

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