seafret
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Story | Give me the image of my soul | seafret | 0 | 11 years 11 months ago |
| Story | As it is? | seafret | 7 | 12 years 2 months ago |
| Story | Fences | seafret | 6 | 12 years 4 months ago |
| Story | On and On | seafret | 1 | 12 years 4 months ago |
| Story | wayside shrine / kinetic | seafret | 2 | 12 years 4 months ago |
| Story | Between the lines | seafret | 5 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Collection | Fictive bits | seafret | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Collection | Poems | seafret | 0 | 12 years 6 months ago |
| Story | Mother Bird | seafret | 7 | 15 years 4 months ago |
| Story | fuerte | seafret | 2 | 15 years 4 months ago |
| Story | The Ancestors Breeze In | seafret | 6 | 15 years 4 months ago |
| Collection | Samkin's poem | samkin | 1 | 15 years 4 months ago |
| Story | In A Cafe, After The Orangerie | Steve Button | 8 | 15 years 5 months ago |
| Story | The hunt | seafret | 9 | 15 years 5 months ago |
| Story | On Returning Home From The Botanical Gardens | Steve Button | 5 | 15 years 5 months ago |
| Story | vortex | seafret | 3 | 15 years 5 months ago |
My stories
wayside shrine / kinetic
Take flight to the wayside shrine on wings. Shells and feather shine - glint oh the remembering of the ending the overlay of patina of shimmering...
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- 2 comments
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- 1002 reads
The Ancestors Breeze In
What is that windsong you're singing? I can almost hear you through my tears Just as you gust outside my window. Urban wind, but seeming to bring Tales of praries, mountains, valleys.
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- 6 comments
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- 3338 reads
Mother Bird
I want to smooth you in honey and syrup, Pat your pain away with feathered wings, Embed you in a nest of my making, Lined with scraps of velvet and silk.
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- 7 comments
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- 2123 reads
The hunt
The hill felt a sudden upset. A flow of red ran down the hill opposite. Crimson cloth, chestnut skin, a sprinkle of silver, alien sounds disjointed, disconcerting.
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- 9 comments
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- 2333 reads
Between the lines
Maybe it’s time to write the lines Of how and who I loved and lost. Maybe its fine between the lines To write of paths tangled and crossed. Maybe it’s good to note the blood
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- 5 comments
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- 1926 reads