HaiAnh

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryPeople Who HaiAnh1017 years 9 months ago
StoryI have found the poetry in this house HaiAnh517 years 9 months ago
StoryArm leaves span317 years 9 months ago
StoryDream Brooklands617 years 9 months ago
StoryEmma 4 Tom 4ever HaiAnh217 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Khoyai and My Childhood Dreams parantap ketan117 years 10 months ago
StoryHow We Live Now HaiAnh217 years 10 months ago
StoryWatching Bridget Jones in Vietnamese HaiAnh217 years 10 months ago
StoryOfferings HaiAnh517 years 11 months ago
StoryTouch me jennifer717 years 11 months ago
StoryDeath in the office animan317 years 11 months ago
StoryAn Old Mind Game squillows617 years 11 months ago
StoryPassages squillows417 years 11 months ago
StoryMissing Phone HaiAnh217 years 11 months ago
StoryIt Is No Good HaiAnh417 years 11 months ago
StoryReading Poetry to the Ravens HaiAnh217 years 11 months ago
StoryLark ascending animan318 years 3 days ago
StoryCarpentry for beginners Brooklands418 years 4 days ago
StoryDamsel Whiskers1018 years 1 week ago
StoryKeep Apart Two Chevrons HaiAnh218 years 1 week ago
StoryThings That Don’t Matter HaiAnh218 years 1 week ago
StoryI Nearly Became A Forklift Truck Driver HaiAnh618 years 1 week ago
StoryFirst Emperor of China, the man, not the Divine. anipani318 years 2 weeks ago
StoryWhat if men burst in wearing balaclavas? mcmanaman218 years 2 weeks ago
StoryHymn to a Broken Marriage mcmanaman518 years 2 weeks ago

My stories

Saga

I have been whispering to the printer since just after nine. It has given nothing, only flashed ‘drum’ and whined and stopped and whined and filled me full then stopped

Pawn

Ladies, stop a second. Don’t hand over the jar, when the lid won’t open, or else in five years it’ll be car keys, then car. You’ll be stumbling, wheeling a pramful, puzzled,
Cherry

The Streetlight at the End of 42nd

An ekphrastic poem in draft, all comments welcome.

An Overly Sentimental Poem for My Mother

Just like the shoes, I am stubborn with, I will not throw you out. Or like my white handbag scratched with nib marks, belly-full of stories I will keep you pursed, one arm belted over you.

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