Archives For Creative writing

They told me it was beautiful

Out today

But I wouldn’t have known

Sitting curled up in a chair

Behind closed curtains.

With every problem in the world

Prancing like shadows before my eyes.

They say it will be beautiful

Tomorrow

So I’m begging someone will come along

And cut the chain from the chair.

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I Quit

May 23, 2018 — 1 Comment

So I disagree with a friend

And It drives me round the bend,

It’s a friendship I can’t mend

So this fight will never end.

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What

May 22, 2018 — Leave a comment

Not for me,

Conforming

To the norm,

Or meeting other people’s

Expectations,

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The schools were a sham. I panicked. Looking down at the sidewalk.

Waiting to be bitten by a venomous reptile.

They became my neighbors. They withheld their poison until my back was turned.

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My little friend pops up from time to time for a nibble.

He has no name. He just sits there and focuses on the job at hand.

He doesn’t need a label. He’s happy just being. Unlabelled but not unhappy.

As we all should be.

 

 

Pic taken with my iPhone

th

I get a knot,

In the pit of my stomach,

When I become afraid,

 

Of the real,

Or imagined,

 

Even when the

Real angst

Is meaningless.

 

Those senses,

Imaginings,

So close,

And not

So far

Apart,

From each other,

Dictate how I feel,

And act.

That’s what makes

It so

Frightening.

 

 

Thanks Beaconblog for pic.

 

 

 

 

 

So the Mr Men books are sexist now. Some people have too much time on their hands. Leave the Mr Men books alone. Getting ridiculous.

Hollywood was a different place in the first half of the 20th century. Great movies, decency, modesty but powerful storylines and brilliant actors. And they did all the stunts themselves. We will never get back to the good old days, but thankfully we have it all on film.  Respect for these guys.

It’s going to rain,

I can tell,

By the way I feel,

And the spit on my skin.

It’s going to rain,

I can tell,

By the cloud up above

And the look in your eyes,

It’s about to come down

Hard.

Fearful

May 12, 2018 — Leave a comment

It was hard,

Watching my Dad

Staggering home from the pub,

Up the dark

Orange lit shadowed Street,

From our dusty greased window,

Two stories up,

Looking down,

Knowing,

When the key slipped into the lock

And he came through the door,

Into the house,

My life would never be the same,

Again.