Nana
Nana and I knit. I sit on the red puffe at her feet. She is mild when no one else is here. When I drop a stitch she picks it up.
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- 475 reads
Grandma
We play drafts and I always choose the colour We watch Gone with the Wind because she says it’s my favourite We eat mince and dumplings because she says its Dad’s favourite
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- 431 reads
Sumo Sister
She is a little baby sumo Owl eyes and light wisps of honey hair. I tease her by withdrawing my face As she leans to suck my nose. She flops forward but isn’t ruffled.
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- 438 reads
Bird Lady
The old lady wears tube socks, That stick out from scuffed black boots
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- 620 reads
Baby
I smile like suicide just isn’t an option and when the baby, finally, uncertainly, gives in and smiles back, I am disappointed with it afresh.
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- 7 comments
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- 2512 reads
Our Tears
To us, they are the innocent drops of pure sentiment, Early or late spills, like seasons, move us, A handkerchief or tissue dabs at the losses, Raw pain surfaces,
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- 941 reads
If I were a girl...
Inspired by, of all things, Beyonce and that rubbish film I paid good money to see last week...
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- 9 comments
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- 4003 reads
Photo Booth
Background: "Out of the Picture" by Gristo inspired me to write this poem. Thank you Gristo. Put on a subtle grin, Have the instinct to pose perfect, One to four second clinks,
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- 2 comments
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- 836 reads
An Unlikely Hero - Issue 0
My name’s Todd Marshall, I’m thirteen years old and I’m the last thing you’d think of when it comes to superheroes.
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- 2 comments
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- 1298 reads