Month: February 2018

The heartbeat of eternity

Poetic vision

The Writing Shed

Will I write in here as snows arrive Locked eyes and fingers frenzied? Imagined places, chattering teeth With windows needing mended ➰ Or will the soft and ancient chair Seduce me in the corner? To doze and dream-up worlds galore While Spring drifts by in wonder ➰ But it’s unlikely that this shed Will grace me with it’s favours The ancient box: creative pride … Read More The Writing Shed

From the Silence

The old woman gazed at the photo of her grandsons, standing in its silver frame on the scratched coffee table by the window. She remembered the day the toy sports car – minus one rubber wheel – had gouged its French-polished top. Despite the damage, she had kept it as it was. Her grandson was horrified that it was still there to remind him. … Read More From the Silence

Of one mind?

To be of ‘one mind’: it’s an expression we don’t hear a lot of, nowadays, though it remains available to us in the language. Historically, it was used to describe an intensity of opinion, or – even stronger – belief, that something was so important that several key figures united in a single ‘front’ of solidarity behind whatever was being endorsed. Perhaps our vision … Read More Of one mind?

Cube and rum

♣️ Cube and rum Sophisticated fun The night beyond The story spun ♦️ A teasing touch Don’t reach too much And spoil the fun Dangled, loved one ♠️ A shiver, a shudder Still laughter down under Nail follows bone Taut flesh coming home ♥️ Recently bold Softly nestle and hold A different kiss shared Bliss sought and bared 🍸 ©Stephen Tanham

Identified flying object

One of the key understandings in mystical thought is the idea of identity. Words morph their meaning over time, and identity is a classic case. We might think of the police knowing the ‘identity’ of a person they want to speak to. We would find it in fashion magazines for both genders in the context of a garment to reinforce our identity in line … Read More Identified flying object

The Human Soul…

On these days

On this day A meagre seven years ago I woke to find you gone A day premature Just the nursing angel in your hand The phone receiver in mine △ Now, at these times I picture you in your old shop Happy to leave your kitchen For shop’s bell, whose call To seek but not always to find Mattered little, but sharing chat did … Read More On these days

The land of the ‘stone father’

Come and join us?

Nuances of living…


Originally posted on Sue Vincent's Daily Echo:
Crack. The ruler slapped down on the desk, narrowly missing my knuckles and dissolving the magic. “Daydreaming again? You will pay attention in my class, young lady!” The French mistress, determinedly optimistic to the last, turned her back and returned to the blackboard. Oddly enough, French was always one of my favourite subjects and one at…

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