April Child > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

It's old, no-one left me!

wabi sabi is the art of impermanence

I see them them come from all directions black dots trickle into a tide I want to stand in front push them away shout &ldquo..

Feel like I’ve had my upper lip waxed except its not my moustache you ripped off it’s my smile.

Somewhere in a field of Bluebells. Tattooed shoulders rise from purple pool, brown eyes gaze up at me, reclined in goddess fashio..

Thunder rumbles, steamy rain showers, air clings thick and sticky. Music drifts in above the storm, fresh as an incomi..

random jottings from an open mic/poetry evening...

Stand back, take in the full measure of my mountainous resolve. Trace it’s craggy surface, let fingers cram fistfuls..

You took me on the kitchen counter, precisely placed lime green cushion providing protection from cold white tiles, back press..

Sometimes when I’m lying in bed I cry and cry until the bed seems to float. I wish I could poke my foot out from under the covers,..