Latest Submissions

Seen in Morocco 1974   A run-down village of adobe walls painted shabby shades of rose-red pink  stands forlorn on an Atlas plateau - this is Morocco.   A long-dead jacaranda with sun-bleached rigor mortis branches  reaching like beggars’ beseeching arms too flimsy for goats to roost on supporting ravens and a loose-slung canvas awning stands in the square.   In the shadows a dwindling remnant - watchers and participants - have assembled for the ...
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They arrive abundant Swath upon swath Arrive with the aim to spoil  The seasonal marauders Dive bombing,  Consuming all they see. What to you a mere morsel, To them a party for free. You can' t be at peace For a moment at least. Why o why do you Frequent our space? Free loaders, loathed by all. You spread disease as quick. With your busy wings, Flying almost out of reach, You dart with youth ...
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Arriving with thought Tabula rasa... Through a child's eyes. We had so much filling our fresh minds Sponge like, ready to soak up fact or fable. I can remember being told when i saw an ambulance. I must pin back and pinch my collar, Look in haste for a four legged animal. I never went to the hospital Presuming they were OK,maybe naive. In the hot summer  days We would hunt a four leaf clover! ...
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Geoffrey Chaucer, though dead as a saucer, towers in April showers. From “Disoccidented” by Alfie Shoyger: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Disoccidented-Alfie-Shoyger/dp/1999922859 ...
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Uniform pressed and shoes shone. Marched to school in military fashion. Nervous as hell as the bell tolled... Ink well and quill charged   Blotting paper to hand Chin up, back straight, Don]t slouch boy came her  Loud monotone voice. Commencing at the front  Chasing down towards me The eerie echo that haunts my present. Smirk replaced with a lasting frown. She there with her bun  Held in place with an ivory needle Scorn etched permanently On ...
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Moody poets are most volatile and unpredictable, they are complained of for their lack of continuity, that you can never trust them, that their constant roller-coaster causes trouble and imperil not relationships alone but even lives, and so the irritation of the growing avalanche goes on. The problem is, however, not the poet but poetic over-sensitivity. It's creativity that is too sensible and can't endure the smallest pea under the mattresses, the soul wide open ...
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 Wandering ghosts hide whispering in the mist, Forgotten voices echoing across barren fields, Here only one thing seems to grow,  their twisted bone branches still reaching Longingly towards home, each day a new a new crop is sown, watered with the blood of the innocent, warmed by the heat of an endless rain of fire, watched over by a faceless tireless Gardner, who ferries the fruit born of fallen souls that blossom there The brave ...
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No, not quite as yet, there might be shortcomings and hangovers, there might be some abruptions, something wrong that wrecks the gears, some sabotage and sand or mud in the machine or in your eyes, but let the show go on, and let the party start anew; when wrecked aside, marooned and thrown off every saddle, there is still some party going on or starting somewhere else, and it would be a pity not to ...
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This is a memory of a  place rarely visited. A recently trusted wilderness, where I wandered without worry, when the light died and the curtains closed. Now, with intervening years, scar tissue has re-opened and legionnaires march to war  along a tow path,  where boat horses once walked. A lonely location, Victorian canal side, where fishing with nets and futile death is more likely, than less. This oily elixir,  melts my unconscious,  each and every night, and ...
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new ...
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Er brandt nog steeds een licht ...
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life ticks on ...
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The planet ricochets to prophets’ chants and I am forced to only half-mistrust what Nostradamus fished from out his trance and revelations bishops have discussed. Does everybody think they’ve got it sussed, shrugging with dismissive looks askance? And worst of all, as this would be unjust, what if the world expires before my chance? What if someone has a tiff with France and coats it in fluorescent sickly dust or buries Greece without a second ...
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Convent walls can be so high ...
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The bravest of hearts deserve applause. I raise a chalice in your honor. You kept faith within. Battles won but not with anger. You never swung a defiant blade. Your heart and mind battled fair. Pulsing with pride. Ruffling not the smallest feather. Nor an angered word out of place. You never feared compromise. Head aloft no premise sought. Wisdom always preceding your very thought. No silence, no swagger Just swept along in valor.    ...
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We are placed upon this earth to prosper, We must in order to survive! Our years to reap and sow are few! We are merely in a void, Of which we serve to fill. Coins are not the measure of life. But how you favor others, That's  the way the stories told, Remembered longer than the richest being. For wealth is but a burden,. It merely scales our shoulders in its quest, To scale the ...
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The  sound grows, Tweeting a cry of joy, Birds herald the new dawn! The Sun starts to glow, Rising high by noon, After the rise the fall. The quite echoed. The light slips slowly away. We witness a glorious back drop. Radiant, pulsing almost alive. The clouds almost tucked, Dipped in bright red. It's like a party, Tucked in the corner, This little piece of land. Time is the main guest. The World just nips ...
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In my province, here you see, Are only two kinds; I don't mean me, There are provincials and then again Non-provincials, all a stem ... Not into much plurality, Mere begging for duality With two to choose A little more Would do the trick, I need to score ...
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Chapter I                     Eira I have suddenly awoken, breathing heavily. My chest was rising back and forth wildly. I felt a painful sting with my every breath and it took me a little while to find my bearings in the dark of the night. I was lying in the middle of the bed. I felt my nightgown, sticking to my wet body, dripped with sweat. I looked towards the window. The curtains were flowing lightly with the blows of the unnaturally warm wind, ...
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