It was in Mrs. McCall’s kitchen that I came face to face with my criminal tendencies.
Non-fiction with a liberal sprinkling of fiction.
I LEAVE BEHIND ME THOSE I LOVE. / Those I love, she thought. The horizontal section of the cross recalled to her though the years and …
Through the narrow space between the leaves, / A tiny yellow butterfly can be seen / Dancing, flowing here and there casually / In the fores…
this was something i wrote in a park, a couple of months ago.
Afternoon drags ... time lags …. mind sags
Tanned girl in a string bikini circles her bicycle round a pebbled driveway / Frustrated mowers fume. Petrol, oil and cut grass / The ratt…
Silver-backed breezes turn the olive tree / whispering back to the wind…
He had laughed at her puny indignation. The two-faced and many-headed were an occupational hazard, he said. They supplied him with moveme…
This is the first half of this story, which is about a relationship that is purely cultural, in which a young girl revitalizes the creativity of an aging artist.
Dalton’s face became perfectly, transcendentally blank. He deftly plucked the fluttering cheque out of her bejewelled fingers, shifting h…
This is the second half of this story, describing the cathartic events that revitalize the artist and free his friend, the girl in the story.
fierce winds / roar / dust descends / until the eerie / afternoon / ends
We recently had a ferocious dust storm, well us and about another half a state, with topsoil from farms to our west being picked up and blown through the skies at ferocious speed. / Not only did I capture some shots of the eerie orange light, but this poem emerged from the dust. It goes with eerie afternoon
I feel like I’ve been rejected!!!
Ripples running wide / on the smooth and bluey deep / Noon has passed, I sleep.
Haiku
The place stank. Not just the smell of animals, but the special, sweaty stink of fear. It permeated the air. I paused, half out of the ca…
I’m trying to get back into writing. I thought the best way might be to dust off and polish up a few stories I’m thinking of submitting for publication. I would appreciate any and all criticism, please.
!http://images-1.redbubble.net/img/art/framecolor:cherry/framestyle:flat30/mattecolor:off%20white/product:framed-print/size:large/view:pr…
There you and I are, / Swinging our way / To the stars I would bet.
I am so full of mystery and joy today / I hope you are smiling with me.. / This life is sometimes so / Out of Control!! I AM HONORED THAT I HAVE WONDERFUL CO-CREATORS HERE ON THE BUBBLE.. / THIS MAN RULES….HE CREATED THIS AMAZING ART TO GO WITH THIS POEM / EARTHMONSTER / I AM FEELING SO GOOD…. AND THE GORGEOUS PHOTO OF THE KISSING COUPLE IN THE BACKGROUND OF HIS WORK GOES TO / Leannasreflections, Leanna Weber “Kissing Couple / THANKS TO BOTH OF YOU.. TO BE INSPIRED TO OR INSPIRE OTHERS IS SUCH A DEEP HONOR AND JOY!!!
when the ground turns / purple
Dromana Afternoon / / Thanks so much Tony and…
Summer afternoon - / more butterflies / than flowers.
Summer afternoon— / saved a drowning / thirsty fly.
like a languid exhale / from a giant’s mouth
sometimes we learn the most by watching the forest for the trees rather than hanging in the clouds. Featured in midnight ramblers September 2009. Many thanks.
14:14? Come again? How so? A bit of a non-time, wouldn’t you agree?
Gut reaction to checking the time. / It’s just how my mind works, OK?
Memories emerge / Sunlight draws shadows / Branches bow to tireless winds
Copyright © Richard G. Witham 2009 all rights reserved. / Contact the artist
The British journalist and the French detective / Ponder the death of the American missionary / Who’s good will finally caught up with him.
Just a few notes from a Sunday afternoon. Thank you to Erika who recommended a change of structure so that it is written in paragraphs instead of the more orthodox poetic style it was written in before. The only bit that is still in the original style is: The old lady calls her children but gets no answer, they are busy, / So she has a nap and tries again, but gets no answer, they are busy, / So she has a nap. This is beacause its appearance in this form highlights the monotany of the old lady’s life.
She takes off her hat and waits for him in their room on a hot and steamy Saigon afternoon. She is oblivious to the street noises outside…
For the “SHE CALLED HIM AT MIDNIGHT” challenge! here
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