So, what exactly happened with the writing of my great Australian novel (and I use the term ‘great’ very loosely)? I don’t have writer’s block*. I know a lot of writers suffer from this, and I am always sympathetic (did … Continue reading The Great Australian Novel. A pondering.
The light is fading, you’re walking out; she’s reclining luxuriantly. The light in those magical eyes is enough to blind a man, before you question why. That smile, combined with sylvan form, is hot enough to melt a man (raised on a diet of ‘avoid’). Like a supernova sundae, take him out at the knees, leave him confused and dazed, with thoughts, indiscreet. Get out of there before that brazen temptress (Who doesn’t know her power over all that exists) enthralls you with her siren voice; makes you fumble, stumble, makes the floor your only choice. Escape while you can, … Continue reading Fall for you. A poem.
Perish the thought, along with all the others. My mind is a blank canvas for me to paint anew; for me to spray all my hopes and blues. Continue reading Perish The Thought. A poem.
Yet another of my long-overdue university out-takes. Following is an answer to a question about establishing place and setting for stories, that I wrote several months ago for one of my writing subjects. I moved back to my parents’ house … Continue reading Place and Setting. A writing perspective.
I glanced drunkenly into the near-empty bottle. In the viscous alcohol I saw my face, rippled and twisted like a garish Mr. Hyde. I laughed at the carnival mirror, so accurately reflecting every facet of my, oh, so petulant features. Every flaw and misconception brought to life in errant ripples at the bottom of a pit, too deep to reach. I cast the bottle aside and hailed for another, in the hopes that I (eventually) might see something far, far better. My first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from most online … Continue reading The Near-Empty Bottle. A poem.
She waited as he wasted away. She watched and pined. He watched as well; sometimes TV, sometimes her. She fed him hand-to-mouth. Eventually he refused to eat. As he grew thinner, the drip in his arm pulsed like a marathon … Continue reading The Wait. A short tale.
Ahead. A Haiku Trilogy. Mouth The subversive grin Making mellifluous voice A love explosion Eyes Eyes of deep regret Wash away your highest hopes Rivers to the sea Ears What bitter sounds made Cannot be unheard again Forever doubting . It’s Haiku Friday. (Yeah, I made it a thing last week. I can do that. I think.) Here’s some Haiku I composed, just for you. Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading Haiku Friday. Yep, it’s a thing, now.
Nights staring into gloom. A mirror to reason, reflecting all your fallibilities and failing sensibilities. All your new found confidence, blown away like mist, before winds of uncertainty. Your moon is waning tonight. You are a crescent shell, threatening to pitch headlong into the drifting, darkening tide. Best sleep, before you persuade yourself otherwise. As you slowly sink, the ever-present gloom drinks up your half empty cup, all your remaining light, and leaves you bathed in Nights. Continue reading Nights. A poem.
Sugar pearls captured in her smile, as rich as maple syrup seas. I long to swim there and taste her sweet, warm waters on my tongue. Continue reading Sugar Pearls. A poem.
Flip left Flip right Match? Or natch? Just like a toy in a chocolate egg (sometimes broken) Tinder surprise My first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from most online distributors. To … Continue reading Tinder Surprise. A poem.
Spoilers? Don’t think so. Okay, so you saw the trailers and it looked interesting. Maybe you were interested enough to stream the original 1982 Blade Runner (actually one of the four director’s cuts, because the original with the horrible Harrison … Continue reading Blade Runner 2049. A movie review.
Tim Winton’s Breath is the kind of book that challenges your thinking about what it means to be a writer. Winton’s prose flows like poetry, with immaculate meter and dialectal mastery. Breath makes me ashamed to say I’m a writer, … Continue reading Breath. A book review.
The newest Justice League trailer has dropped. And it is AWESOME. Check it out: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=r9-DM9uBtVI I am so looking forward to this movie, out in November. Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading Justice League: the newest trailer ROCKS!
Every laboured keystroke, every considered verb and noun. Every gritted mental blank, every meaning so profound. Every silken metaphor, every glorious turn of phrase. Every underlying message, every edit, every change. Every keystroke, every line, ever thankful every day. Every joy I write that lies within, that flowers on every page. Thank you. . This poem is a thank you to all of my readers. Everything I do is for you. Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading Every Word. A poem and a thank you.
Shut me down, flip that switch. Turn out my lights and hear me Breathe my final maudlin death rattle. You have such a way with words, you kill me every time. Every. Time. Continue reading Flip That Switch. A poem.
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