-
Yesterday's Weather- Another random paragraph I wrote and liked.
The day seemed confused with itself, for the sun was as bright as the wind was sharp. The clothes on the line clung while the warmish air spun around them. If there had been a few more clouds in the sky, there could have been a storm.
-
Thoughts about God
I stole a Bible [I'm curious and I was in a hotel ( Read more... ) -
The Sand Architects
We are sand architects.
We sculpt far-fetched ideas
and we're artists
for a day.
We will stretch ourselves today
and tomorrow
all our efforts will
wash away.
We are the kings of this beach
and our empire
reaches that net
over there-
past the sea-glass fortress
and the pebble mound.
Now the tide comes in
but we don't care.
Honestly. -
An Extract from my Life- I just wrote it in my diary and thought it was funny.
[Basically, I was sat in a restaurant with embarrassing parent-friends opposite a very good looking friend of mine who I'd been allowed to invite.]
There was a vase of flowers between us and from time to time I shifted it slightly to keep him in view, but when I had eventually cleared the obstruction a gravy pot replaced it. I put my head in my ( Read more... ) -
Moonrise
Moonrise
Moribund day.
Sun dies
and moon inherits the sky behind.
A plane interrupts
the natural starlight,
an angry red
against orange and pink ahead.
The day is now dead.
Long live black ink
and silver lead.
Morpheus did not find
The scribbling insomniac
and the moon-howlers.
Yet now, he knows-
they run in packs
of lone wolves.
-
Grey Noise
Grey Noise
Figures of flawless grey
bent against the wind.
Filled with empty
up to the brim.
Topped up
with vacant void.
Grey even creeps into sunlight.
They've had it up to here.
Nothing is truly black,
for there shimmers gold
when black basks
under the beam that falls clear.
But grey shines through.
Awkward silence
speaks louder than words.
( Read more... ) -
Here's a Story I've been toying with for a while
London smells of murky rainwater and I smelt of beer.
My cheek was wet against my hand on the glass divider near the doors of the tube train. My other hand was hot, holding a stale cider can.
At whatever time it was on the tube -past midnight- there two types of people. People going somewhere and people who aren’t going anywhere. There was a girl ( Read more... ) -
The Actor
The Actor
Look at the actor.
Spreading his arms like wings,
As if trying to fly
Over the heads of his audience,
Who stare at his shadow,
Speechless.
He flaps his arms about-
His movements are shouting.
He’s speaking so fast
He spits at the front row.
He is a magnificent fake-
A fantastically flapping,
Spitting and flying ( Read more... ) -
Success [A Writer's Personal Pianist: Part 8]
Ivy's book was published just before Christmas. Literally. 'Lies We Live By', as it was entitled, was published on Christmas Eve.
Ivy was naturally excited. In fact, she called on Monty to remind him that day. As if he didn't know already. Monty was like a little boy when they talked about it, either as animated she was or, at times, totally ( Read more... ) -
I Am Oscar- a heavy going filler that cured my writer's block
I am Oscar
I am Oscar. I am a sailor, and the waves of my brain crash against the rock cliffs of my soul.
My wife Mona once loved me and I loved her, but I as lost in the Great War, and she thought me gone. Abandoned after having been injured, I had to make my own way home. I wandered from France through land, and nobody knew my name. ( Read more... )