john_silver
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | The Disciple | john_silver | 2 | 15 years 3 months ago |
| Story | Jesus mentality | alonso071 | 1 | 15 years 4 months ago |
| Story | Insomnia | Luly Whisper | 2 | 15 years 4 months ago |
| Story | Lightning | Hairy Dan | 2 | 15 years 4 months ago |
| Story | Tuesday Sonnet: Theatre | john_silver | 4 | 16 years 1 month ago |
| Story | Tuesday Sonnet: The Wisdom of the Old | john_silver | 4 | 16 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Whose Ark? | jennifer | 7 | 16 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Friday Sonnet: Silver | john_silver | 4 | 16 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Wel I know now... | sonic_tonic | 1 | 16 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Tuesday Sonnet: Merits | john_silver | 3 | 16 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Thirty Odd Years | Myndstorm | 6 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Fitzrovia in These Times | poetjude | 4 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Monday Sonnet: Coda | john_silver | 3 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Pinhole Photographer (for Justin) | jennifer | 5 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Snails on the Floor of Heaven | jennifer | 2 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Friday Sonnet: Enumeration | john_silver | 3 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Split. | indigogold | 6 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Monday Sonnet: Sanctis | john_silver | 3 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | Before I say I Love You | MistakenMagic | 8 | 16 years 10 months ago |
| Story | How to Fall | hadley | 1 | 16 years 11 months ago |
| Story | The Red Rose of Palookaville (re-edited) | ralph | 4 | 16 years 11 months ago |
| Story | The Red Rose of Palookaville | ralph | 2 | 16 years 11 months ago |
My stories
Saturday Sonnet: Little Proverb
If there’s a name for you, it is pronounced In whispers, in a tongue we speak no more; A tongue that’s only used to write the lore Of sacred things, and books of past accounts.
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- 893 reads
Friday Sonnet: Monologue
Because I find a glance of yours can raze Me to the ground, as though I were the corn Or rye and you the mother of the storm, I purse my lips and turn away my gaze,
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- 616 reads
Tuesday Sonnet: Immortality
“When I am gone, I shall not be the dust That licks your soles beneath your steps wind-borne, Nor yet the thread of ash that, shorn of lust And reason, trails the mantle of the storm;
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- 578 reads
Monday Sonnet: Hope
I’m asked to write of hope, a subject which Resists festoons of metaphor with almost The same propriety as death. Foremost Among the skills that make a poet rich
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- 612 reads
Sunday Sonnet: To the girl who smiled
Here in these streets of judges and police Where we unlace the textiles of our days, I used to search you in the tales from Greece Which speak across the eons, phrase by phrase,
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- 2 comments
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- 1046 reads