HaiAnh

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryPeople Who HaiAnh1017 years 11 months ago
StoryI have found the poetry in this house HaiAnh517 years 11 months ago
StoryArm leaves span317 years 11 months ago
StoryDream Brooklands617 years 12 months ago
StoryEmma 4 Tom 4ever HaiAnh217 years 12 months ago
StoryThe Khoyai and My Childhood Dreams parantap ketan118 years 2 weeks ago
StoryHow We Live Now HaiAnh218 years 3 weeks ago
StoryWatching Bridget Jones in Vietnamese HaiAnh218 years 3 weeks ago
StoryOfferings HaiAnh518 years 1 month ago
StoryTouch me jennifer718 years 1 month ago
StoryDeath in the office animan318 years 1 month ago
StoryAn Old Mind Game squillows618 years 1 month ago
StoryPassages squillows418 years 1 month ago
StoryMissing Phone HaiAnh218 years 2 months ago
StoryIt Is No Good HaiAnh418 years 2 months ago
StoryReading Poetry to the Ravens HaiAnh218 years 2 months ago
StoryLark ascending animan318 years 2 months ago
StoryCarpentry for beginners Brooklands418 years 2 months ago
StoryDamsel Whiskers1018 years 2 months ago
StoryKeep Apart Two Chevrons HaiAnh218 years 2 months ago
StoryThings That Don’t Matter HaiAnh218 years 2 months ago
StoryI Nearly Became A Forklift Truck Driver HaiAnh618 years 2 months ago
StoryFirst Emperor of China, the man, not the Divine. anipani318 years 2 months ago
StoryWhat if men burst in wearing balaclavas? mcmanaman218 years 2 months ago
StoryHymn to a Broken Marriage mcmanaman518 years 2 months 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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