poet_hawtin
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Cleopatra Bathes in Milk | poet_hawtin | 3 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Dance on The Graves of The Dead | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Birthday Wishes | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | Anthem For The Disenfranchised | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | After The Bombs Fall | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 9 months ago |
| Story | When We Dance | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | To His Bold Mistress | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Love's Young Brother | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Mad Dog Revival | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Machinery | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | No Clocks | poet_hawtin | 3 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | That Great Longing | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | True Longing | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Rudderless World | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | self immolation | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Immigrant Night | poet_hawtin | 1 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Imperfectly Perfect | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | I am Silent Joy | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Geometry | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | Double-Crossed | poet_hawtin | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | The Rumour Mill | poet_hawtin | 1 | 13 years 2 months ago |
| Story | Premonition of Civil War | poet_hawtin | 2 | 13 years 3 months ago |
| Story | No Epilogues | poet_hawtin | 2 | 14 years 1 day ago |
| Story | Forever Alone (Chapters 1-4) | Leno | 2 | 17 years 2 months ago |
My stories
Immigrant Night
Throw me out into the immigrant night. Lost and futile – I am his. Bygone and vagrant – I am his. Fractured, hesitant, derelict – I am his. Where is Paris? Where is Rome? –
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- 509 reads
Rudderless World
To my left side lies a hip flask, half full of a hellish osculation, to my right, a lighter; inside lies a fear, an anger, a great passion, one I never knew I could possibly possess
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- 384 reads
When We Dance
When we dance it will last all night. They will retune the violins, retighten the drums, the trumpets of love will be repolished, all bridges, behind, will be demolished, when we dance.
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- 364 reads
Imperfectly Perfect
All the winds blow wet in the grey town of Bath. Sodden, I step out into the fray, cold and forgotten, clinging to a phantom, a frail frame in a famous blue fur coat, a cut-throat voice
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- 350 reads
Geometry
Your naked body, in a way, speaks enough poetry to fill the entire bedspread, and then you tell me you don’t believe me, you say I have a dependence on romance,
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- 459 reads