The back lane, this new-year dawn, is littered, bleakly - tumbled bins, spent bottles, knuckled tabs, sodden boxes; hound shites, plastic wraps, a quilted headboard, yellowed hand towel; wrapping-paper tumbleweeds troubling parked cars; a bloody gown of herring gull (gutting something); and the last, the very last, or the first, Christmas tree, skulking and skittling … Continue reading The Wronged Tree.
in this narrow kitchen i dream a wild life with you. out there, he breathes. he loves you. i taste you and i believe, every evening, in everything. i don't know how we got here. but if this is where you find me, this narrow kitchen, with my heart on my sleeve. just whistle. .
‘Twas the night before ChristmasAnd all through the houseNot a creature was stirringNot even a mouse…’ These are the opening lines of ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas‘ written by Clement C. Moore in 1823: a true children’s classic Christmas story told in verse. Childhood is (or certainly should be) a magical time. And Christmas (for…EIF Poetry … Continue reading EIF Poetry Challenge #12: The Poetry of Childhood — Experiments in Fiction
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