blighters rock

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryProbably start a poetry night mcmanaman413 years 1 month ago
Storythe vitality of a vessel a.lesser.thing1113 years 1 month ago
StoryJust waiting for the president blighters rock1113 years 1 month ago
StoryShe's Mine - Part 2 of 2 Suzanne Hamblin713 years 1 month ago
Forum topicHow's this for a Rip-Off? karl_wiggins1013 years 2 months ago
StoryDistant to guilt Highhat1513 years 2 months ago
StoryI have this dream... IsntLifeBrilliant613 years 2 months ago
StoryThe Brightest People Pixie413 years 2 months ago
StoryMarch blighters rock1713 years 2 months ago
StoryThe Myth of Narcissus Silver Spun Sand1113 years 2 months ago
Forum topicCalling FTSE ItsSteveDave213 years 2 months ago
StoryPoem Unread Silver Spun Sand1013 years 2 months ago
StoryMy Mother Pixie813 years 2 months ago
StoryLost In Hollywood ton.car513 years 2 months ago
StoryFuneral TheGameCat1313 years 2 months ago
StoryCheck Mate sid2913 years 2 months ago
Forum topicDenzella has News too! Denzella2713 years 2 months ago
StoryHer eyes belonged to infinity lavadis2813 years 2 months ago
StoryJanuary blighters rock3013 years 2 months ago
Forum topicWhen Did We Stop Making Love......... Ed Crane1513 years 2 months ago
Forum topicIt's now 4:37 AM but I am still getting the 3 a day message. well-wisher513 years 3 months ago
Forum topicPotential Twitter Mate karl_wiggins2713 years 3 months ago
Forum topicSome great recipes for future reference Ed Crane413 years 3 months ago
Forum topicProse Pentathlon Denzella1013 years 3 months ago
StoryMaria thanksforthepar...1913 years 3 months ago

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My stories

Cherry

To those who understand

When a whistle sounds like a wailing baby and rain in the car is a crash of white noise, it’s time to wonder if I’m all there and remember that I’m not.

April

Effortlessly spreading butter from the dish without mulling over which knife to use the joy that there’ll be no doleful waiting time for the stuff to melt sufficiently on the toast

Just waiting for the president

I hardly recognised the place bowls of boiled sweets fresh flowers and open doors a novel fifties corner dreamt up by a colourful volunteer to celebrate ye olde tea shoppe
Cherry

March

As soon as I arrive at her chair I kneel down and kiss her forehead and then her hand. As I look up at her I play with the idea that she will awaken from her illness
Cherry

January

Again I sit here, as I have every morning for months, waiting to hear singing birds in my mind, but the bee just won’t budge.

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