Little Thieves. A poem.
You were a little thief Who stole my life away With lies and deceits I was the little thief Who turned your life around With misguided conceit Behind our facades We were together as one Just little thieves And now our day is done Continue reading Little Thieves. A poem.
The Dance. A Haiku Trilogy.
Awkward Somewhat awkward glance I should look her in the eye My reservation Enigmas Small talk at table Wondering if she’s like me Enigmatic souls Fear I should ask her out Fear gets the better of me Together alone Love myself some haiku. No better way to express poetic whiles then in the confines of a 5/7/5 syllabic structure. I could build a wealth of poems on such a foundation. You can read more of my haikus here. Continue reading The Dance. A Haiku Trilogy.
Beacon. A poem.
My light and my guide Through deep waters wide Your beacon a warning Rocks and shoals in the night If I’m caught in the storm And blown far off course May your lighthouse deliver me For better or worse Continue reading Beacon. A poem.
Remember. A poem.
Remember life The semblance of Before the fall (So far you fell, maybe you’re falling still) When integrity, respect Were friends on call All you’ve done All your transgressions You just wish it wasn’t so Accept the facts (False truths … Continue reading Remember. A poem.
The Sale. Part 4. A short story.
The crazy lady was right up in my face, spittle flicking onto my cheek as she voiced her objection. I backed up, hands raised. “Look, I’m really sorry,” I said. “I really didn’t know you had a tragedy related to…cleaning products.” As if from nowhere, she extracted a huge butcher’s knife from its hiding place behind her back. It glinted malevolently in her hand, matching the glint in her eye. The yelp that escaped my lips was more feminine than I would have liked. My eyes widened to the size of saucers, adrenaline surged and my voice trembled. “I can … Continue reading The Sale. Part 4. A short story.
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.
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.
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