Autobiography
Walk with me.
Walk with me Along each winding road Each path of life that runs ahead of us Walk with me Past the windows of our lives Our past, present and future By your side I’ll be
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- 727 reads
The Proof: Chapter 8
One of the boys set fire to the newspaper with the dog shit inside it, while another waited by the doorbell, poised.
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- 1035 reads
The Proof: Chapter 7
The autumn after that Charlie moved on to secondary school. It took him a while to settle in, but he gradually returned to his former pattern of scholastic excellence and social withdrawal.
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- 953 reads
Poetry Box
1. I receive a call, long-distance, from a woman I've never met. I ask: Who are you ? She refuses to give her name. In a cellar, in a house, in a country far away, she says
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- 1345 reads
Run, Adam
Adam runs alongside the frozen canal, new year's day - his fiftieth year. It's good to do this he's been told, to run along the canal's artery the ground hard beneath his feet
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- 1773 reads
She thinks of missing once he has gone home. Waiting for the Dream of Gerontius.
Little things irritate, like they always do and larger things send her screaming for a room with the door always closed.
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- 896 reads
Dr Crippen's Transcendental Sushi Bar
She walks through the door and feels a surge of hot blood in the pit of her stomach. "Sit here" he says "near the conveyor belt. That way you'll be sure to enjoy the choicest cuts."
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- 2645 reads
♥♥Message for you♥♥
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
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- 1591 reads
The Boss (I.P)
I am neither Boss , nor Male, and this is tongue in cheek for the I.P. You might like to think it's a cliche. I wish.
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- 1328 reads
I Remember
I remember a time when the names didn’t hurt me. That hazy untouchable feeling of a strolling concrete block.
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- 5726 reads
4-a-day smokes
Like most people I use to be a smoker. I picked it while in the military stationed in the jungles and rice fields of Southeast Asia for 12 months.
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- 456 reads
The Sixties
Woodstock or the Isle of Wight Doctor No is a Thunderball Shaken not stirred The pussy purred There’s an armed man on the knoll
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- 3500 reads
Alarm Clock Blues
"...How warm the blanket wrapping Of your kisses on my brow,..."
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- 1424 reads
Birthday
...continual dark clouds.... have coverd the sky in which part of the sky are u o moon? darkness has lit everywhere glow-worms on the way around the lake ...the wind is blowing.....
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- 1323 reads
Uncle Tom (The Re-write)
My Late lamented Uncle Tom, a re-write. Last verse re-written
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- 3272 reads
drugs abuse and torn up families short version of my true life story
this is my true life story my dad abused my mom and sister mom got involed in drugs her boyfriend beat shee went to jail lived with her again asame thing happened she went to jail and didnt get to see
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- 331 reads
I Met An Indian Yesterday
(dedicated to my fiancee Courtney Silverman) I met an Indian yesterday: he was about my age with wild eyes devoid of rage I met an Indian yesterday: his hair was long, black
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- 1117 reads
The Colt with the Blaze. The Song of its Short Beautiful Life.
A night, short in June with bats and moths attracted by rainbow fluid ligh
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- 2936 reads
Infectious
Communicable by infection As from one person to another Like an infectious laughter If we only knew how infectious our action Or the contagious nature of yawning
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- 714 reads
The Married Couple Now Waiting To Depart
Are running sixty (six zero) minutes late. His carnation has been daubed with cylinder oil, her garter snagged on a wheel. Because Adam's a novice he took lessons from Reverend Crisp -
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- 2006 reads
The Night I Couldnt Remember
What drink can do?!
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- 281 reads
Mrs. Magoo
Well no, my husband is not short and stodgy and gosh no, definitely not rich. In fact, he doesn't even have myopia. But others would agree with me that he is Mr. Magoo with ADD and 20/20 vision.
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- 1880 reads
I deal
I deal I put on sky blue leggings and get off the train in a new place where I am station met and taken to a building with a garden
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- 1253 reads
Doorbell, and the reassuring presence of Socrates
The doorbell tones vary, stray electrical impulses share the airwaves, create impressions of a visitor, who isn’t there. False connections spark impulses tripping tunes into play.
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- 1572 reads
Entry Point
The midwife's forceps held against a waxing moon - an astrolabe, an obsterical fillet: here - take them. Stand and wait. Adam drifts in his space-womb weightless as
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- 1550 reads
The Child We Can Never Have
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- 2459 reads
Life After Alcohol
Warning- quite a long one.
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- 2127 reads
MY DAILY POISON
MY DAILY POISON Valium and coffee gets me through the day Valium and coffee pushes troubles away Don’t ring my phone, don’t ring my doorbell
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- 552 reads
My Little House On The Prairie (2 am)
Written when living in a cottage in the hills of Scotland.
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- 929 reads
Ten Years Old In a Runaway Speedboat
This really happened! (to me!)
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- 1109 reads
If You Justify This, Your Talent Will Be Next
Unproductive Writer's Syndrome. Apologies to the Manics.
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- 3828 reads
The Captain's Special
A semi-autobiographical short story about holidays and people.
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- 770 reads
Debating the reasons to leave
If we go now, we'll never get it the bloodrush higher than the needle piercing the skin If we go now, I'll never feel him the pale arms, tattooed and frail grasping my skin
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- 737 reads
WRITING POEMS ON A FRIDAY NIGHT
Regrets and consequences.
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- 690 reads
London Monday Morning 1967
Mum in the kitchen, amid egg shells, Tony Blackburn, The Kinks and a ‘Waterloo Sunset’ on a London Monday morning.
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- 3442 reads
Love me do (Incendiary)
Bit late for last week's IP, had to come out at some point! I've had enough of trying to be polite!
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- 6505 reads
Anxiety of Night
spinning round inside my head, ripping, tearing, wanting me dead. your words stab me in the heart, etching needle on skin, some kind of art. haunted pictures consume my dreams,
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- 1489 reads
Campari and Orange
I wish... (edit)
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- 4855 reads
Manicure
My cuticles are a reflection of myself. Rough around the edges, dry, flaky. Some days I yearn to be polished, smooth and neat A pearly pink, glowing with health.
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- 503 reads
Email Charlie again
I don't remember really what I wanted to tell you, but the patterned carpet and missed aeroplanes and bar stools and people walking down staircases wearing uniforms, is all a bit everyday.
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- 572 reads
The long trip round
They took a long trip Around the subject Danced other dances In opposite directions Surprisingly their perceptions Of the other Didn’t alter that much Just aligned. Came into focus
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- 712 reads
MY LIFE OY VAY 16 (DIARY OF A DRUNK BASTARD)
MY LIFE OY VAY 16. (Diary Of A Drunk Bastard)
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- 1185 reads
Prayer of thanks
Last year I thought I would drown Swallowed up by rumour and suspicion and lies Afraid that I would lose friends I never had And be rejected by a family who never cared
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- 672 reads
The test
Concentrate your mind Point your thoughts to higher things Pure like volcanic mountain springs Sieved threw years of sedimentary rock Stand firm, steady your course
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- 980 reads
Station
Pools merge on the station floor, concrete, used by the multitudes, half-finished conversations, exchanged glances, last-minute kisses and hastily arranged next meetings.
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- 616 reads
The Journey
I’m finding life Finally I’m finding it After years of loss In a sea of confusion And lonesome wonderings I’m finding life Actually it’s been there All the time
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- 996 reads
Driving Great Aunt Maisie
We'd already done 'I Spy' to death...
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- 5852 reads
i was with(out)
this feels a bit immature and a bit premature. it isn't great. good? questionable. but i like it. would love some feedback. i'm not entirely sure what it's about.
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- 832 reads
The Last Grandparent
I thought my faith superior to that funereal talk of being together and the dead dog snapping at your heels. I am not laughing at your simple faiths today. O God
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- 1930 reads
Shocks 1,2,3
All of these emotions are so wobbly, and they are never cautious and they never stop and they never think. The only secretary is that I can write all that I feel. My hands can just about
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- 2223 reads
Crematorium
Is this everything - your name printed on paper two bunches of flowers and thirty-one people with your genes? Stories were never written on a string of DNA.
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- 2028 reads
Longs Close
It is not you I mourn but the walk to your house through the wheat on Dodds lane and the haze on Pyrford roads in high summer. Now, bereft of my place in those times
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- 4540 reads
After Mandela
“After his death” he says, “the prophecy will come true, Slaughter of all whites within seven weeks.”
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- 2209 reads
Summer Fever
The young ladies who are so true, their eyes do dance under the summer lights, they are more beautiful than any person known. There are those who walk with blonde hair,
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- 836 reads
The Story of Me
The music of my life plays around me in unseen drifts Nursery rhymes flutter by like butterflies Laughter and grazed knees Trees and buttercups
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- 963 reads
In Love with Dyslexia
I am very much in love with a guy who is dyslexic. Until a couple of years ago I did not even know what the word meant, actually neither did he.
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- 936 reads
The Missing Ring
I begged one of my friends to let me wear her pink flower finger ring. I wanted to show it off in school and tell everyone that I had gotten engaged suddenly.
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- 1575 reads
Poetry Beauty
acrostic poem with vertical lines read, "poetry beauty brings big joy to read" (if you cant see the image, se capitals ... in fixed font to see words line up )
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- 419 reads
The Lost Post (Chapter Three) Docket and lies
Docket Definitions: 1. Work carried out over and above one’s duty 2. That with which to supplement a derisory income 3. That to be stolen from someone else
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- 1170 reads
Time means nothing here
When time collapses on itself, and now and then co-exist.
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- 1531 reads