they sat in the low light blue smoke of the room and, after a while, running out of things to say, he picked up a guitar and started to strum some rudimentary chords, plucking triads and tripping harmonics and, believing he was, of a sudden, some old blues man, he began to throw in some … Continue reading perhaps this is what they call jazz?
I packed a stack of old records in a Tesco's bag and took a 109 into Croydon. Some were mine, some were yours; once upon a time we called them ours. Tim looked sad as he opened up that Tesco's bag and spread out all that vinyl on the counter. He pointed out some scratches … Continue reading scratches in the sunlight.
‘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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