No genre chosen for this piece

Oh Paul

Ahem...before for anybody says anything, this is tongue in cheek. Every morning, before I do anything else, I give myself 10 minutes (no more) to write a really loose sonnet about whatever comes into my head. My only rule is it has to rhyme. Nothing else matters - I don't even have to agree with what I'm writing. Technically, as sonnets they're pretty damned dire - but that doesn't matter either. By the time I'm done the mind has warmed up.

The Easter Men

If only they could speak. What tales would they tell? What songs would they sing?

Chuck's Dead

Chuck's dead. Long live the poet.

My Final Masterpiece

Soft pastel oils streak themselves across a muted canvas, cold acrylics clash against stark monochrome on a thick cotton paper, senseless watercolours spar like water to a flame as they dance on bleeding stationary. Segragated into piles of water-logged stationary, there's a reason we don't mix.

Before The Cake

At a steady pace down a long, beautiful hall. Several wall lamp leagues mark the distance to nothing else but a gaggle of bright lavender about a...

Josie and Sam

Josie and Sam The room was silent but for the soft whirring of the fan, the tick-ticking of the clock, and the tap-tapping of the receptionist's long...


I think I've had enough Trying to pick a drink that will sit On top of the rest of the night Something that will join in And not cause any trouble '...

She was like a Summer's day

She was like a Summer's day; like the trees that seem happy in the breeze; full of hope as the sky; her eyes like leaves shining in the sun; her...


against the heart can sting if released for un-forgiven wrongs. They will often wound a person’s spirit. Releasing venom short cuts brain circuits...

cotton wool

cotton wool i used to drink special brew for breakfast, claret and ice cold san miguel work days i’d take a codeine chaser that was when i worked for...