Justin Tuijl
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My stories
let there be cake
the sun is falling below the gravestone, he made 83 when I was two i expect the sun is falling everywhere and none of it means a thing stones words...
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- 336 reads
the drive back
we’re half way home an hour left to drive the car is old and the steering is vague a wheel bearing is noisy, the headlights are dim we have finished...
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- 421 reads
Though the kingfishers looked
Though the kingfishers looked So beautiful; specks of shocking blue Against the dead green and dark water. They chased each other like in love -- And...
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- 353 reads
Rupert
(Written 2015) Julia stood by the train door as it pulled into Beckton station. She had been watching the nearly empty platform all the time as it...
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- 363 reads
Dry Golden
(This is one of the few old poems of mine I still have, maybe 2008, not sure. All the others were lost) Far away I remember the fields, Dry golden,...
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- 567 reads