maggyvaneijk

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
Storysometimes maggyvaneijk138 years 5 months ago
StoryYou Can't Pin Me Down YaseminB58 years 5 months ago
StoryOf a Saturday Silver Spun Sand238 years 5 months ago
StoryA QUICK POEM TO JIMI HENDRIX skinner_jennifer208 years 6 months ago
StoryI Can't Help Wishing Christopher fatboy74818 years 6 months ago
StoryNothing Ever Really Happens fatboy74328 years 6 months ago
StoryWinding in the River Nolan108 years 9 months ago
StoryBeautiful Fish Kilb5068 years 11 months ago
Storytwentysixteen maggyvaneijk69 years 1 month ago
StoryBye - My dear friend pkroutray49 years 1 month ago
StorySID AND NANCY YaseminB69 years 1 month ago
StoryForgotten Copse Deliberately Ev...169 years 1 month ago
StoryTwo Point Four alexwritings29 years 2 months ago
Storytrifecta maggyvaneijk179 years 3 months ago
StoryCC 63: The Photos of the Future sean mcnulty59 years 5 months ago
StoryDown The Street hilary west89 years 8 months ago
StoryAtomic London Zuku39 years 8 months ago
StoryKnickers winking_tiger49 years 8 months ago
StoryDevil gate drive denni149 years 8 months ago
StoryAnd the Beat Goes On (IP) Overthetop1409 years 10 months ago
StoryMy Poems Overthetop1209 years 10 months ago
StoryLoaded Words blick7749 years 11 months ago
StoryReykjavik 29/3/16 Philip Sidney119 years 12 months ago
StoryBabbacombe Fair Ewan110 years 2 days ago
StoryMy Four Aunts' Voices Jane Hyphen910 years 1 week ago

My stories

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Blue

I’m sliding backwards into memory like a skydive in reverse into the blue of my mother’s robes a mosque’s dome powdered sulfur the spray of light...
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Gold cherry

"Hi"

Image: 
Tell me that you haven’t felt like this for years way-out high on red wine. Tell me about 2005 and the cycle of time, how you never would have...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Things you’d only tell your mother in a foreign language

It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night. You’re pulling hard on my shoulder blades like you’re trying to open me up. Tiny bones of fear block my throat...
Gold cherry

Driving to Whitstable with my father

When people look into our car, they see me a hitchhiker of twenty-three passenger seat, hands on knees eyes fixed on a hole in my jeans. I am too...
Poem of the week

The wanting

The wanting is what I fear the most
 the wanting.

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