tan63

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StoryOde on a Sprig of Gorse tan63214 years 12 months ago
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StoryThe Heath, Tanners' Hill tan63115 years 1 week ago

My stories

On having Proved the Existence of God to my Own Satisfaction

Mere words cannot express the wisdom of his face. His brow, neither wrinkled as the newborn, nor deathbed smooth. The line of his jaw, more permanent, solid, than diamond or crescent moon.

Song to repressed female fury

Oh, my God. Lord Almighty! Lend me your stairway to heaven. We need counsel again. Virago is dead, in black, she let her hair down and rode a long winding. By fire, light, her heart

A racially-motivated sonnet to the working class

Cor blimey Charlie, how’s yer father’s? And yer mam? Bit of ox tongue, brisket, to go with them eels? Take a butcher’s at this lamb. Looking’s for free son. In yer dreams.

Rhapsody in Ronda, a Sonnet

On holiday in Ronda, Andalusia

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