ralph
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My stories
Recovery Song
Dear friends. This morning I cut myself shaving. A canal of blood drifted from my chin. I let it clot, heal gently. A miracle in the bathroom mirror...
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- 1667 reads
The Pulpit of Snide (or when I became very unwell with severe depression and drug dependency, some of my closest friends shattered my heart into a million different pieces by just walking away)
If you think you know the whole story, I promise you’ll know only a half. And within that fraction of my downfall, only a quarter will make you laugh...
Buttershaw, South Bradford
Buttershaw, her love spreads. On summer days, melted and translucent, she's a glistened river. Her grace, a keenness for peace, can hush restless...
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- 3181 reads
Dreams of Children
Walking up the hill to the poetry class, talking to myself as if a mad man, of how tonight I will encourage the students to write vivid and...
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- 768 reads
Leaving Upton Park
Sometimes we’d win and we’d all go berserk. But the bubbles have burst since we left Upton Park. Hurst, Peters and Moore, an honest days work...
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- 1420 reads