Concentration
They barely rest, heads bowed, eyes begging. Their whole body flinching in the heat, front legs kneeling to the monotony. They heave against the sagging fence
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- 3 comments
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- 1747 reads
I dont like writing.
A poem - I dont like writing
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- 515 reads
Getting Home
Misery on an Ulsterbus. (First published in the Christmas edition of Delivered magazine).
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- 953 reads
Only A Mother
Thank you for a life filled with love. A life of light only a Mother can give.
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- 566 reads
Quiet Memories
Quietly you sit in memories past.
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- 549 reads
Open Secret
nothing special...
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- 1 comment
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- 1963 reads
Brown Coffee
A short Ukrainian tale about a Lada
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- 1 comment
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- 1256 reads
JUST NOT AS EXPECTED
Like a silky smooth seeming chocolate, With a lovely, luxurious look, That has a disappointing flavour, You’re not as good as I thought you were.
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- 1045 reads


