New World. A poem.
All in an idea that surpasses every living, livid, longing, licentious breath that screams in ecstasy from the darkening depths of a soul long since condemned to a purgatory of your own making. If only you had read the signs. … Continue reading New World. A poem.
Upstart Photographer – Black and white photography is da bomb.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if we were frozen in a moment of time, just like a photograph. Would we feel trapped? Would we experience emotions, needs, the impact of physics and quantum mechanics, the way we … Continue reading Upstart Photographer – Black and white photography is da bomb.
Believe in Love. A poem.
Believe in love. Believe so ardently that your heart burns from the pain of longing, loss and subtle expectation, a flame that reduces you to dying embers at the thought of that special other. This aching lamentation is for the … Continue reading Believe in Love. A poem.
Hand. A poem.
Hand in mine, you lead me far from dark entwined. For certain death does this … Continue reading Hand. A poem.
Haiku Friday. A lone haiku.
Uncertainty. A haiku. This uncertainty stems from not knowing the truth that lies in all things. Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable structure. You knew that already, so I’ll just shut up now. Cheers Steve … Continue reading Haiku Friday. A lone haiku.
Juncture. A poem.
At this juncture, decisions made: A change of season, a chance parade. At this juncture of no return, no looking back at bridges burned. At this juncture, we’re laid to rest in hallowed ground, without contest. At this juncture, the … Continue reading Juncture. A poem.
Father. A poem.
I remember my father, as he is now and then, anchored to that fading chair with fading hairline and fading eyes, the absence of smoke from unfiltered cigarettes, not so heavy in the air. Less the cough from tar-filled lungs … Continue reading Father. A poem.
Tangent. A poem.
I’m off on a tangent, tangentially related to this relationship that doesn’t exist but continually insists betwixt was and is and not that it could and should and would be something worth waiting for, despite the frustration and inevitable fall, … Continue reading Tangent. A poem.
Anvil. Part 14.
“Get to the interceptor,” says the Anvil, gritting her teeth. As Chun, Jimmy and Olsin exit stage left, she flexes her fingers and tenses. Autonomic sensors and variable defence pattern assessments are whirling around her brain. Her HUD is flashing … Continue reading Anvil. Part 14.
Inconsequence. A poem.
Spectacularly inconsequential, a life subsumed in lack of meaning and purpose. A breeze blows through and every tinder brush and tumble weed seems like it’s heaven sent. The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry. To … Continue reading Inconsequence. A poem.
The Not-So-Burning Bush. A short tale.
I haven’t written a flash fiction for a while. Here’s my poor attempt at romantic fiction. Cheers Steve 😊 I was ensconced in the bush, its leaves and branches irritating and scratching my face. Completely hidden, I craned my neck … Continue reading The Not-So-Burning Bush. A short tale.
Haiku Friday. A lone haiku.
Trepidation. A haiku. My trepidation lingers like dirty feet on too-clean front door mats. Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable structure. But you knew that already. Cheers Steve 🙂 The All or the Nothing is … Continue reading Haiku Friday. A lone haiku.
Stand and Deliver. A poem.
Quick stop. Quick start. The car sputters like an old man who’s walked better roads than these but only just remembers how. Simple arrangements for endearingly simple times, handed across the threshold to smiling eyes with insouciant grace. The tarmac … Continue reading Stand and Deliver. A poem.
Life of the Party. A movie review.
Saw Melissa McCarthy’s new movie the other day. I’ll admit up front that I am a McCarthy fan. I like her sassy, in-your-face and inappropriate witticisms. I guess they remind me of my own big mouth. Her movies tend to … Continue reading Life of the Party. A movie review.
Emptiness. A poem.
Empty like the bottomless glass, the view from here so circumspect. Empty like the void above, between star shells and light effects. Empty like the cheerless heart, opened upon a mortuary slab. Empty like a suicide vein, eyes open wide … Continue reading Emptiness. A poem.
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