There was a man…
There was a man called Kevin, Who was quite keen on writing. His poems tickled my heart, And made me want to praise his fine art, But I paled miserably, while trying! Little wink at Kevin, from newauthoronline 😉
Category: short
Full moon whispers…
A mere murmur, muffled confession, reminiscence of what is no more. The moon beams never lie….
Romantic grip…
Let my hand get lost in yours… I want to feel the wind on my silly fingers, running, febrile, along your life line… Hold tight, don’t let go! Wet palms, as I sigh, wrapped around your little finger… Let my hand get lost in yours Forever…
Perfect evening out – #1MinFiction
The perfect little black dress. Maybe a tad too classy for the occasion, but I knew he’d like it anyway… Sipping on my cocktail, an eye discreetly staring at the entrance… It would have been the perfect evening out, had I not been waiting for about an hour when my cell phone vibrated on…… Continue reading Perfect evening out – #1MinFiction
Roadster Haïku…
Oh Mustang Sally, Lips matching your red hot ride, Please, grant me a smile! .
Nice try – #1MinFiction
So… I’m guessing that didn’t go well? He pulled the daisies from his ripped shirt. He had not hoped for a warm reconciliation, but this was a little over the top, even for her. He had just forgotten her birthday, after all! When Peter asked if she had served him the “talk to the…… Continue reading Nice try – #1MinFiction
Micro poésie du vendredi…
J’ai glissé une marguerite dans le canon de ton escopette. Pendu mon jupon blanc au pan de ta baïonnette… Cette guerre est une pure invention de ta tête. Pauvre Don QuiChuchotte, tu vois des vautours dans les yeux des fauvettes… .
Fill my cup…
Let the liquor pour, and dim the light. Don’t mind me as I wrap my scarred skin in shadows, drawing my darkest secrets, like crow feathers tatooed across my wrists and ankles, memories of the cuffs I wore for too long. Let the wine flow, and hope I learnt how to swim somewhere along…… Continue reading Fill my cup…
Addicted…
“Some people need a booze, crave a joint or would kill for cocaine… You played the pusher, then left me high and dry, begging for your oxytocin!” I always refused to to get high with friends… Always turned my back on anything that could turn me into a slave. I was…… Continue reading Addicted…
Micro poésie du vendredi…
À tire d’aile, rasant le flan… Deux espions. Déception annoncée, d’une vie qui s’achève… L’un qui vainct, l’autre qui crève! .
Cyranny's Cove 