Yutka

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Forum topicWhile I am waiting by Yutka maisie220 years 7 months ago
Forum topicA son is home for Christmas by Yutka tcook320 years 7 months ago
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Forum topicYutka Anonymous120 years 8 months ago
Forum topicThe man on the train - Pepsoid lisa h420 years 8 months ago
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Forum topicHaiku competition tcook1620 years 10 months ago
Forum topici'd love to ... ivoryfishbone720 years 10 months ago
Forum topicThe chicken at the door by Megan mykle1020 years 10 months ago
Forum topicSelbstportrait mit Kater by captainmcdan mykle1020 years 11 months ago
Forum topicArt Fart... by Lisa Hinsley pepsoid420 years 11 months ago
Forum topicHo hum... pepsoid3520 years 11 months ago
Forum topicSTOP ALL THIS NOW! Laura Callender2320 years 11 months ago
Forum topicOh Holy Night by Fergal mykle1920 years 11 months ago
Forum topicDidn't want to be a priest 2Lou620 years 11 months ago
Forum topicA Little Bit Lost Corvus1220 years 11 months ago
Forum topicFergals' 'Her Side of the Story' Jack Cade420 years 11 months ago
Forum topicLily Green and the Tree Fellers - RachelCoates Anonymous721 years 3 weeks ago
CollectionBlog rachelcoates121 years 3 weeks ago

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My stories

Death in the Afternoon

Death in the Afternoon - 15 ml Pernod - Fill glass(es) Champagne - 1 cube(s) Sugar Place sugar cube in glass, add Pernod, crushed ice, a slice of lemon High-spirited, each time we come

Fast moving Time

Fast moving time, you drift through already forgotten moments. You carry the same possibilities, but differently, as if you were living in many of the same rooms. We cannot catch but your afterglow, feel

When we see we are growing old

It is there, in the strong light, when we see we are growing old. Loneliness is a glance over a darkening lake. Let's play kiss chase. I send my looks deep into the willow tree. Grope me there. I am your Snow-white.
Cherry

We, the Settlers

We, the settlers, trekking behind the covered wagons of time, rattle the hours in pockets of loose moments, that can hold only so much in a day. We want more for next week, next year, always in search

What will remain of them?

Poppy seed capsule, bare now without its bright crimson petals a wind has ripped out, like our children, so often forsaken and each one uncertain. Many are taken. Faster than eyes can blink

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