Wonderground
Seated in the underground, my shoulder pressed against my neighbor’s dampness soggy wool. Her face is veiled, a glimpse of sorrow in mascara streaks; wilted roses in her hands. Suddenly […]
Seated in the underground, my shoulder pressed against my neighbor’s dampness soggy wool. Her face is veiled, a glimpse of sorrow in mascara streaks; wilted roses in her hands. Suddenly […]
To let Richard Wright:s haiku: The scarecrow’s old hat Was flung by the winter wind Into a graveyard. inspire us to do a solo-renga again. My effort follows below: — […]
I could never touch his waxy face, sunken, yet familiar. Painted and preserved with formalin, his blood exchanged with chemicals. His nose and ears seemed larger than in life since […]
A funeral is a preparation for the life after. And if you believe that you will be reborn again, the balance sheet will be summed. Just like in any economy […]
The task at Carpe Diem is to distil a haiku out of this poem by Prince Genji The evening sky itself becomes something to cherish when I gaze at it, […]
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