Brooklands

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Forum topiccomprehension exercises by Spack Juliet OC1218 years 1 month ago
Forum topicAtheism: the New Fundamentalism? archergirl5518 years 1 month ago
Forum topicSpack - 5:32 andrewjames918 years 1 month ago
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Forum topicPoem of the week andrewjames8218 years 1 month ago
Forum topicEast End Film Festival hox418 years 1 month ago
Forum topicNaPoWriMo Jack Cade818 years 2 months ago
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Forum topicHeretics of the new religion? 2Lou17918 years 2 months ago
Forum topicA novel way of getting a poem read by a wider audience... poetjude718 years 2 months ago
Forum topicSteve Button Liana072718 years 3 months ago
Forum topicAt school... fergal1318 years 3 months ago
Forum topicHelp with a title please! drew_gummerson818 years 3 months ago
Forum topicGate by Span markbrown618 years 3 months ago
Forum topicBugger Bognor by rokkitnite tcook518 years 3 months ago
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Forum topicNew Story and Poem of the Week 16.2.07 tcook618 years 3 months ago
Forum topic460.10 ralph6018 years 3 months ago
Forum topicThe poetry archive span318 years 3 months ago
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Forum topicAcademy Awards mikepyro2118 years 3 months ago
Forum topicNewsletter tcook1618 years 4 months ago
Forum topicIf you are thinking of going skiing - don't! tcook918 years 4 months ago
Forum topicthis is very funny, i think you will like it siromah218 years 4 months ago
Forum topicA shot of sunday fergal418 years 5 months ago

My stories

Funereal

They will say I was having a laugh all the way to the end, dying alone in a green room, a book of my own poems in my lap.
Cherry

The Actual Queen

You imagine an alternative life for her where she is a waitress in a checker-board pie shop, jellied eels piled up like alien spines.
Cherry

Flint

The conversation we had about patterns in leaves, in cabbages, Romanesque, the golden ratio between our finger joints

Everyone's got a spotlight

The penny-drop choreography of a drunk at a hubcap, his self-image in the slanted chrome.

Alternative Ending

Gandalf sloped back to Gondor with a burning eye of shame on his cheeks, his staff no more than a walking stick, hat in his grizzled hand, flapping behind him like a windsock.

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