Washed-up 1 That washed-up image of a girl I see, I knew her once, or was it she knew me? She touches her cheek as I touch mine, mouths the words I speak; takes a while to recognise now gazing back through unmoving eyes proving my mind’s winding away as lathered foam in deluged pools…
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Uluru revisited: a poem on the iconic rock.
Mysterious it lies, foreboding perhaps, a monstrous creature nestled on flat desert plain; deep burnt-earth orange, now red, vermillion, purple after rain. Walking closer, a snake, a face appears weathered in the millennia mound; caves and tree-edged crevices beckon offering shade from the scorching heat; forms stare from beneath smooth overhangs telling hypnotic dreamtimes;…
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Colour Blinds: discrimination
Race is a fact. Racial discrimination is a choice. As with any discrimination is has no place in society and must not be tolerated.
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Six years ago my life turned a corner
What happened six years ago? I moved – not just to a new house, nor even to a new country, but to a whole new way of living. I left a large town where I existed cheek by jowl with other stressed out people all trying to make it through each day the best they…
Read MoreWhat Price? – a poem on the greatest sacrifice
Thirty pieces of silver was all it cost: What price to Him? the bloodied crown of thorns, the scarlet robe; What price to Him? His body and His blood so freely given to men who would deny their Lord, their Christ; What price to Him? falsely tried – a travesty of justice…
Read MoreThere’s Always Two Sides: a proposition
A few days ago I read an interesting and informative article from a fellow blogger in which she described different types of prose writing. She introduced me to a term I’d never come across: a ‘drabble’. This is a very short story of exactly 100 words. I love the short story genre but I’ve never…
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