Anvil. Part 13.
Olsin leads the motley crew of escapees through gleaming corridors towards one of the many tower hangars. As they approach a corner she places a hand on the Anvil’s groin and whispers “Wait, sugar.” Her hand lingers for an uncomfortably … Continue reading Anvil. Part 13.
Half-light. A poem.
Sweat and toil and creaking springs, grasping fingers and the scent of hallowed limbs. Perfect and imperfect rhythms in motion, bestial howls and fire and tender susurration, collated in the half-light of a muted TV. From this vantage point we survey the hedonic … Continue reading Half-light. A poem.
Everyday Rhythm and Poetry
Here’s an exercise I did for Uni, a fair while ago. Use the question for a writer’s prompt, if you like. Do some exercise, listen to some music, or even listen to the clock tick. Find an everyday rhythm and … Continue reading Everyday Rhythm and Poetry
Dragon’s Ahoy! Like Chips Ahoy, but with less chocolate…
Time for another of my Laidback DM posts, and a new free map! I love drawing maps for D&D adventures. I have far too many, though, so I’m giving them away every chance I get. This week: Dragon’s Lair! This … Continue reading Dragon’s Ahoy! Like Chips Ahoy, but with less chocolate…
‘The All or the Nothing’, Steve’s eBook available now!
via Save the Poet! Click on the link above to find where you can download it. For poetry lovers everywhere! Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading ‘The All or the Nothing’, Steve’s eBook available now!
Backseat. A poem.
Random musings and the explicit constancy of touch, a quickening cadence strafing the scene like machine gun fire. This beckoning equivalent, captured in steamy windows and whispered expectations. Here on this unsubtle backseat, fertile new world exploration begins and ends. … Continue reading Backseat. A poem.
Unknown. A poem.
She does not and will never know me. She will never read between my lines. She will never walk the halls of my history. She will never cry a tear for me. But I have known her. In the briefest … Continue reading Unknown. A poem.
The Night. A poem.
The night is not my friend. I lie here, encapsulated and encumbered in darkness’ vice-like grip. The night is not my friend. I lie awake, turning and tossing, trying to escape my funereal thoughts. The night is not my friend. … Continue reading The Night. A poem.
Stray Thoughts. A poem.
Stray thoughts, like alley cats, prowling amongst the refuse and detritus of my memories. Sally forth the dogs of war, to clear these backwaters and scare away this pain. Until stray thoughts wander back to sully my streets again. The … Continue reading Stray Thoughts. A poem.
Avengers: Infinity War. A movie review.
Okay, okay! I said I wasn’t going to the movies this week, but I did. Couldn’t help it. Avengers: Infinity War is a star-studded extravaganza, the culmination of ten years of Marvel world-building. It’s one of those movies that fans … Continue reading Avengers: Infinity War. A movie review.
What I’ve been Watching.
No movie reviews this week, but I’ve been watching a lot of Netflix lately (Australian Netflix – some of these series are on different networks in America and Europe). I haven’t found a series on the streaming service I haven’t … Continue reading What I’ve been Watching.
Tinder Time. A poem.
Flick left, swipe right. A pallid, Saturday night police line up of unambiguity, measured by nervous fingertip and amygdala. A feature-filled array of fatuous smiles and narcissistic natures, whereby motherly and mad skip hand-in-hand with the otherworldly and overwrought. Consider … Continue reading Tinder Time. A poem.
It’s about time for a free Dungeon Map!
Time for another of my (currently) irregular Laidback DM posts, and a new free map! Map drawing for D&D adventures is my thang. I have far too many maps, so I’m giving them away every chance I get. This week: … Continue reading It’s about time for a free Dungeon Map!
Preludes. A Poem by the Master.
Preludes By T. S. Eliot I The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o’clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet … Continue reading Preludes. A Poem by the Master.
Morning Coffee. A Poem.
Whorls of heat haze fumigate the air, an ocean of dark and broiling depths mirroring a bleak and surly heart. Your lidless eye reflects the scorn, a barely bitter taste that lingers like cyanide clarity on the tongue. Oracle of … Continue reading Morning Coffee. A Poem.
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