john_silver

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryThe Disciple john_silver215 years 7 months ago
StoryJesus mentality alonso071115 years 7 months ago
StoryInsomnia Luly Whisper215 years 7 months ago
StoryLightning Hairy Dan215 years 8 months ago
StoryTuesday Sonnet: Theatre john_silver416 years 5 months ago
StoryTuesday Sonnet: The Wisdom of the Old john_silver416 years 9 months ago
StoryWhose Ark? jennifer716 years 9 months ago
StoryFriday Sonnet: Silver john_silver416 years 9 months ago
StoryWel I know now... sonic_tonic116 years 9 months ago
StoryTuesday Sonnet: Merits john_silver316 years 10 months ago
StoryThirty Odd Years Myndstorm617 years 1 month ago
StoryFitzrovia in These Times poetjude417 years 1 month ago
StoryMonday Sonnet: Coda john_silver317 years 1 month ago
StoryPinhole Photographer (for Justin) jennifer517 years 1 month ago
StorySnails on the Floor of Heaven jennifer217 years 1 month ago
StoryFriday Sonnet: Enumeration john_silver317 years 1 month ago
StorySplit. indigogold617 years 2 months ago
StoryMonday Sonnet: Sanctis john_silver317 years 2 months ago
StoryBefore I say I Love You MistakenMagic817 years 2 months ago
StoryHow to Fall hadley117 years 2 months ago
StoryThe Red Rose of Palookaville (re-edited) ralph417 years 2 months ago
StoryThe Red Rose of Palookaville ralph217 years 2 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Saturday Sonnet: To the Nephew

I seldom write of death. I’m still too young; My pen has yet to spell of lives dispelled, And when I walked my way, the hand I held Was not the shadow I’ll hold down the long

Alcmene

I do not know you, my friend, As the one who traced the line Of my prologues like a vine, Eve to eve, and end to end. I only know you as the one Who caught my thunder while it turned

Helios

This is a poem that I write Because the words have failed the tongue. This is a canticle of night Because my grail has spilled the sun. I was religious, though I thought

Orpheus

It's not to leave, but to return That matters to this fallen plume. I took an echo from an urn Of empty pride to be a tune Of peace and words of friendship, and I followed it into the bottom

Library

No, I shall not; I’ve had enough Of libraries as mute as moons, Of limpid autumn afternoons For sharing books and quotes and fluff. One whole season I’ve been lost

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