Christmas steak
At Christmas eve, we served a steak on dinner plates my grandma painted, and when we laid the table I could sense the scent of linseed oil and turpentine. She […]
At Christmas eve, we served a steak on dinner plates my grandma painted, and when we laid the table I could sense the scent of linseed oil and turpentine. She […]
Breath- less whispers spark me verses shimmer, breeze o’roses, leaves o’green, curl my toes. You spill me grins bubble open shadows melt my scars You skip, you dance my heart. […]
Your scent is moon, a song of lilies left at night; you’re whispered pages torn from notebooks, memories; you’re my rage, insomnia, the emery of finger- prints as left on […]
“It always comes down to just two choices. Get busy living, or get busy dying.” Stephen King in Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption When did our thinking turn to likeness […]
She was a melody, a flute She was the voice of skylarks at the breaking point when summer’s close to spring. Her hands were doors to other doors a dream […]
Writing about living in two places (and times)
Poems & Stories from The Author Stew
practising for a whole life
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis