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the persistence of memory
this piece was written after viewing salvador dali's art peice, the persistence of memory."!
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An Ode to Tolerance
Inside the cloth is another side of character – avarice meanness and skullduggery
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It wasn't the fact that mum and dad were both blind that created poverty but..
Everyone needs love.
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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
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Sunset
You'll have to read it to see it ;-)
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Hyde Park
We marched to Hyde Park. We marched to nothing.
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POEM: Tell Me.
Blinded by the light of unrequited love.
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Trevor's Troubles
Sometimes things are just not what you want them to be, but only one person can change them...
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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.
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The Accompanist
A little night music
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Little Bird
(Edit) A fledgling fallen from the nest.
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The Gamesmakers
She went home, sat on the settee, looked at the photo of Eddie and her on their wedding day.
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Gliding hands
a rose is no rose
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Grasp
grasping for something, but the words do not answer
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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."
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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.
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Droog
A poem on my hatred of an infernal critic of mine; nothing personal. Enjoy writing friends!
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Memories are made of this
I thought our daughter's wouldn't get drunk but...
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- 488 reads