Wounds. A poem.
Time passes Wounds heal Leaving scars And memories Of tragedy That fade But never disappear Completely But make us Who we are Continue reading Wounds. A poem.
Author: Laidback DM
I’m a writer/graphic designer creating content for tabletop role playing games since 2019. And poetry. Don't forget the poetry.😊
The Sale. Part 3. A short story.
The living room was immense, I almost needed binoculars to identify the furniture. This consisted of a few ornate and dusty lounges, chairs and a worn coffee table, all encircling a huge twenty-foot wide hearth, a fire burning briskly within. Exotic, cobweb-covered chandeliers shone dimly from the ceiling far above—the light they cast had very little impact on the dancing shadows cast by the flames. My previous confidence in a quick sale was evaporating, unlike the sweat forming on my brow from the heat in the room. The butler lurched to a stop by the door, out of breath. Standing … Continue reading The Sale. Part 3. A short story.
Puzzle Piece. A poem.
You are the final piece Of this eternal puzzle The final piece To intersect And combine To make the parts Into the whole Bringing purpose And new life Complete Continue reading Puzzle Piece. A poem.
The Sale. Part 2. A short story.
The rain was falling harder now. I raised my collar against the cold and turned to go, lifting the heavy vacuum kit awkwardly beside me. The door slowly opened with a long creak (it was like it had its own theme song, the patter of rain the accompanying percussion). I turned and jumped. The fellow in the doorway was huge, at least seven feet tall, with a face so wrinkled and jowls so pronounced it looked like it was melting. He was dressed in a butler’s coat and tails, and as he opened his mouth the harsh intake of breath that preceded his … Continue reading The Sale. Part 2. A short story.
Iterations. A poem.
Multiple iterations Played over and over A thousand times or more Of what went wrong But another iteration Won’t change the game Or the final outcome Continue reading Iterations. A poem.
The Sale. Part 1. A short series.
I’ve just started a new uni subject, and one of the threads on the discussion boards is about re-writing clichés. This is my first post from that thread (it’s not part of the marking process so I can post it here now, otherwise I would have to wait until the course was over). I’m going to continue this series on a semi-regular basis. It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, it wasn’t really that dark. There were big street lights, like super A-grade halogens (the city council must have had a bigger budget in this town than my last). And … Continue reading The Sale. Part 1. A short series.
Wheel. A poem.
I am a mouse On a wheel To nowhere Is this a prison Of my own making The wheel spins Never braking (Never breaking) I am the mouse Trapped in a cycle Continual heartbreak And recrimination Round goes the wheel Never braking (Never breaking) I am the mouse Who dreams he is a man Who dreams he is a mouse On a wheel To nowhere Continue reading Wheel. A poem.
Anchor. A poem.
The furrowed brow The weight of my world Bringing me low My successes tarnished Corroded by rusty deeds And the lime of consequence Troubled thoughts Sail on a sea of responsibility The waves toss and tumble Almost as black as pitch And sticking like tar The dead weight of regret If I could be saved Would you extend a hand? Or let me be smashed on black reefs The wind is cold and hard It whispers in my ears A melody of darkness The fire fuelled And then brought low By implacable resistance Will I ever escape? Will I ever … Continue reading Anchor. A poem.
Pedestal. A poem.
I placed you on a pedestal Now you’re too far For me to reach Story of my life Continue reading Pedestal. A poem.
Wonder Woman. A movie review.
No spoilers on the Western Front It seems like it was only yesterday that I was commenting about the superhero movie formula becoming stale (oh, it was – check out my Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.2 review here). Little did … Continue reading Wonder Woman. A movie review.
Too Late. A poem.
How could you say the things you did? And how could I respond in kind? Every bitter reproach Like a roadmap of our pain Every recrimination Like a hammer to my brain Holding back the tears Letting emotion and volume have their way Where logic would have saved the day Two mules head butting Unable to back down Two recalcitrants enabled In the aftermath When all is said and done When acrid smoke rises from the craters of regret Realising you can’t take back what was said And you wish you never had But it’s too late Far too late … Continue reading Too Late. A poem.
Guardians of the Galaxy – the Marvel formula strikes again…A movie review.
No spoilers here… I’ve seen all the Marvel movies and generally I love them (Incredible Hulk was a bit meh, but that’s okay, you can’t have everything). The last few have bordered on a bit average, though. So why is … Continue reading Guardians of the Galaxy – the Marvel formula strikes again…A movie review.
Workout. A poem.
Sweat on brow Lactic acid burning Muscles straining Joints and ligaments Crying out Such wonderful pain These moments Bring me back to life In its absence Continue reading Workout. A poem.
Muse. A poem.
Fingers dance Rhythm and rhyme Enticed from wood And strings of steel Peerless sensuality Entranced, sublime The muse alive in me Music is my true love. And it loves me back, assuredly. Continue reading Muse. A poem.
One Day. A poem.
When I’m here Alone (as always) Projecting random thoughts Internalising fears Rejecting self I think of you Though you know me Not at all I live in hope That one day You will Unrequited love. It lives on in our hearts and minds, the very minds that hold us back from expressing that love. And so we carry it inside, hiding it away, dreaming of the day we might set it free. I write a lot of poems about it. Someday my torch will burn for all to see. Until then, I will continue to smoulder and write and dream. Continue reading One Day. A poem.
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