PROCRASTINATION.
Will you? Won't you?
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- 1137 reads
Liverpool Street
I’m looking deep. Your eyes. Puffed and crowed. We sit on the step Blue plumed Silk Cut comforted. Grass marks on jeans. Your boots unpolished. Where they kicked me.
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- 1394 reads
To Be a Poet
To be a poet, you have to show it. The words don’t have to rhyme every single time. Just look inside you. Write down what YOU feel to be true. To be a poet,
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- 776 reads
Where the Daisies Grew.
I knew my way from there and a small part of me really wanted to take in all the changes
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- 798 reads
Three Mile Drove, Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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- 995 reads
Life What does it mean to you?
How do you view life? I was negative, and willing to give up, but then I learnt truth. This poem is a reflection of that
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- 617 reads
Sunday Morning
Andrea ran heavily after the tiny dog, her body aching and exhausted was no match for that of the young dog.
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- 1073 reads
THE HEART OF MAN
,,,becomes a spontaneous nightmare of mirrors reflecting mirrors, which collapse upon themselves crashing headlong into the beast ,,,
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- 1154 reads