To reconnect to your emotions, I recommend getting an animal. My fingers smooth your fur, feeling the bumps of your spine and my way home. The last of the Trifecta challenges. What a wonderful ride and group of writers. Careful What You Cast For.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Poetry and Other Wordy Things. I sit, just me and my coffee mug. To the owls on my mug, or to you. But we keep each other company. Although, there is so much I could say.

My Safe Area to Write, Create and Share. Where did it happen? The memory came back. Me sat on the bed. Mum stood in the doorway with her head bleeding. When the police come a week later, my mum made no qualms about telling them. They found the body in the local canal. Do you think they will ever find it? .

Musings, memories and other miscellanies. Inside the tower, Oxburgh Hall. View from inside, Hardwick Hall. Looking in, Roman windows, early morning.

8211; while they had burgers and sides. just reading, studying, random chatting, wifi-ing. my drink was a salted caramel frappe. This afternoon, we went to an annual town flower and garden show. Which i used to buy in a persian outlet in the city. so i ordered a strawberry.

I had a dream last night. Not so strange, some may say. But, as well you know, my darling, there are men who never dream. Your father was one, and his father another, blissful souls who entered into sleep as innocents to the grave, blameless and unknowing. I counted myself among them, for fully forty-three years and seven months, but last night, I had a dream. Should I tell you? August 8, 2013. Sometimes the wind blew so hard, it blew sc.

Writing is the common name for art with words. I apologise profusely for the aeon that has passed since I last posted here. A lot has happened in my life during this period of time. This week Trifecta gave us five words to use as a suffix to our usual 33. Five little words, yet they pack a punch! Some of you may recognize this one.

The One That Got Away. I still think about you. Sometimes for hours at a time. Or just until it starts to hurt too much. To the moon and back. More than you could ever know. What made you leave? Was it my embarrassingly bad jokes? This w.

When you reach into the past and root out wretched trauma and abuse,. Cold, covered in sordid and deadly edges,. They tout the good record on the surface, the picturesque. Green clipped lawns of an all-round good fella! Never mind the tormented human before them;. With enough care they can be persuaded back into this comforting frame. Could there be this horrific undercurrent? December 8, 2013.