Song without words
This is not their final words at dusk it’s not a poem told at dawn, neither sunshine nor the moon It’s unpredictable their river wild, words withheld — smothered rage. […]
This is not their final words at dusk it’s not a poem told at dawn, neither sunshine nor the moon It’s unpredictable their river wild, words withheld — smothered rage. […]
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