Nick.A

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryDear Stephen Ewan26 years 9 months ago
StoryClueless Nick.A010 years 9 months ago
StoryChislehurst Nick.A210 years 9 months ago
StoryBy a Bridge in Winter Nick.A410 years 9 months ago
StoryBeached Nick.A110 years 9 months ago
StoryBabbling Screams Nick.A310 years 9 months ago
CollectionPoems 08 - 09 Nick.A010 years 9 months ago
StoryThe Third Law of Thermodynamics Nick.A010 years 11 months ago
StoryNovember Nick.A010 years 11 months ago
StoryShadows Nick.A510 years 11 months ago
StoryImperial War Museum Nick.A010 years 11 months ago
StoryDruids Nick.A010 years 11 months ago
StoryGenesis 0:0 Antonia_Soazig912 years 2 months ago
Storythe affair shoe1313 years 9 months ago
Storythe tree shoe213 years 9 months ago
Storyheartbreak shoe413 years 9 months ago
StoryAtleast they died fighting andrew-evans114 years 4 months ago
StorySummer's End Nick.A214 years 6 months ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A314 years 6 months ago
StoryPlease, take these thoughts Nick.A314 years 6 months ago
StoryLove me Beeme1814 years 6 months ago
StoryThe onset of winter Nick.A314 years 6 months ago
StoryThe Witch kheldar314 years 6 months ago
StoryThe Certainty Principle Nick.A314 years 6 months ago
StorySchrödinger’s Cat steve-r614 years 6 months ago

My collections

My stories

Summer's End

The trees turn early in the late summer sun, Yellow and gold against a soft cerulean sky, The sun goddess bursting through the leaves Birch bark shining white at her touch.

Nearly human (again)

Kernel Panic... Deactivate reception sensors. Insulate the core. Switch off external Stimuli. Protect lockdown centres. Initiate detection scan. Wipe infected sectors. Reapportion memory.

Druids

Deep in the Passages in the rock An unwritten history is lost in the dark. Timeless, wordless, it is written in each vanished block And every miner’s mark. Reason whitewashed like the lime,

Chislehurst

Chalk white, pitch black, And silent as the grave. Druids, Romans, Saxons Echo through the rock, Like flint sparks in the tinderbox; Here and gone, only ghosts remain.

Please, take these thoughts

Lured by the need to lose the daily grind, Amidst the greens and browns that are easy on the eye And gentle on the soul. I seek out Wilder places, where solitude can roam.

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