Committed writers dedicated to working together to produce excellent poems, short stories, drama, life writing, and creative non-fiction

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Sheila 01823 67 28 46

Valerie 01884 84 04 22

Monday 26 March 2012

The Cocoon of Creation

The Cocoon of Creation | By Orna Ross.: "To take time out of time. To stop thinking, pushing, striving, doing. To drop the drive of ego and allow something else to be."

Friday 23 March 2012

Of our charity

If only we understood her need 
to meet herself a hundred times a day 

the bright assurance 
of my mother’s face 
in each and every room 
would be no trouble at all 

Our home would be filled 
with mirrors. Every inch of it 
a source of vanity

 - and doubt. 

© Sophia Roberts 
All rights reserved

MawganPorth: Summer, 1982

The couple sat on the edge of the lobster pink, cone crunching beach.  Black clad, androgenous, narcissistic.  Each was reflected in the other: pale, pixie face, cat green eyes, black hair close cropped at the side, spiky above and sweeping to the shoulder.

Don’t you want me baby?

She didn’t.

© Tim Scott
All rights reserved

Wednesday 21 March 2012

Hold On Just a Little While Longer

Never ending scolding, not holding
Touch untender
Family dismember
Love surrender
Unfeeling, leaving the bleeding
Soul torn
Spirit shorn
Child worn.

Musing, losing the bruising
Mind detached
Dreams despatched
Can't be snatched 


© Caroline Nicholson

All rights reserved


                      You think you know me? Can tell me who I am?
                           Mock dry my dreams, turn silver into grey
                                  With your unyielding glare?
                      You catch my light, yet light belies the shade,
                           The chiaroscuro hid beneath the folds.
                      You think you know me?
                            Then turn me round and look the other way.

© Sheila Rogers March 2012
All rights reserved


Paper dolls cut from the same template
Four eyed reflection. One dark. One fair.
‘Are they twins?’ asked the teacher.
I feel her pain, she feels mine.
Who will steal whose toys?
I cut the join and the pieces
flutter, like confetti  looking
for a new settling place.

© Valerie Taylor
All rights reserved


Caught within the bowl of the pond,
Cradled in the branches of an elm,
A swollen, golden moon.

Narcissus-like, I reach –

The water ripples,
Reflections shiver, melt, are gone.

So, sometimes, in the soft evening light,
My mirror yields a glimpse:
A girl, before life’s chances, choices,
Painted her firm.

© Gill Dunstan
All rights reserved


They say that Mirror Image on the wall
Always tells the truth an’ all
But it never shows what others see,
Thank god for that cause it’s not Me!
I stare and stare, but deep I know
That Mirror Image on the wall
Can’t ever tell the truth at all!

© Penny Smale March, 2012
All rights reserved

Blah blah blah….

“ Blah blah blah….And here we have the kitchen, with useful deep-set shelving here by the window..”

‘there used to be a door there, when this was two cottages’

“…And the Aga of course is always the heart of a home”

‘ you can still see where there used to be stairs where the Aga is now.

“this makes a nice dining room or snug”

‘tell them that the over-mantle is from Exeter cathedral’

“the hay barn above the stables”

‘ is great for a band for summer parties.  If you look on the end wall up in there,  you can see where various children over the years have drawn peeing men, spitfires, and mystic circles..

“Note the beamed ceiling here in the annex, an attractive feature”

‘from when this was part of the hay-barn.  The same beams are in there.  They must have blocked up the holes to drop hay into the stables below, which explains the uneven floor.’

“Not a bad little garden out the back here”

‘over forty different species of birds have been observed here over the years’

“I understand that down there used to be a root store..”

‘tell them about the doorway you can just see if you lean forward to look down.  It leads into a corridor running behind the yard stables, and there’s a secret room there with electric light..’

“I must say that the views here are outstanding”

‘ if you’d only bother to take them to the top of the hill behind us you can have a 360 degree view.  You can see the Wellington Monument on a clear day..’

“Blah blah blah…”

© Penny Smale March 2012
All rights reserved

Hold On, Just a Little While Longer…

The silence really is deafening.  My mouth and eyes are gritted with sand as I lie, face down, pinned to the ground by an enormous weight across my pelvis.

After what seems like an age of silent stillness, I hear my sister’s calmly panicked footsteps as she approaches us.

‘Put your arms round the back of your head, and I will guide her legs away.  Hold on just a little while longer’

The air suddenly feels three times heavy with apprehension

‘Penny! Now! Roll away! Quick!’

The imprint of my riding glove from when I had first hit the sand could be clearly seen on my face for several days.

Selma and I had shared a frightening experience and we remained together for a further twenty years.

Each with a bad back!

© Penny Smale
All rights reserved


Unbelievable stillness perfectly reflecting the towering mountain. The glass surface of the tarn so calm and serene. Memories of the seasons swirl in the deep dark water giving the reflection life. Holding their secrets until they ascend as falling rain, escaping to break the mountain’s spell.  

© Liz Redfern 
All rights reserved


Do I perceive that I am getting bigger ears 
They say a face changes... every seven years 
Does my nose appear to be rather long 
Perhaps its beak size... improves the Thrush’s song 
Does my hair have the same texture; it feels like wispy hay 
Either this mirror reflects a false picture; or I am Dorian Gray 

© Kenneth Campbell 
All rights reserved



I am proud of my Great Grand Aunt’s life.. that was so good 
And of her message... that is so clearly understood 
I am proud at the wonder of this special 140 year celebration 
And at the selflessness... the SMG Sisters are showing to this nation
I am proud to be related to a Lady... who was so genuinely holy 
For she spent her whole adult life caring for the Lowly 
I am proud to attend this celebration of the Order that Fanny founded 
And I appreciate how beautiful the spoken words have sounded 
I am proud that Fanny’s message has spread so widely overseas 
I’m thinking of the holy Sisters, who do so much to please 
I am proud when I read the journal: “Pray & Promote” 
The content never fails to induce a dryness in my throat
I am proud at the simplicity of Fanny’s religious devotion 
As I watch all those... here present... displaying such emotion 
I am proud about life’s Picture that Fanny’s holy Sisters paint 
And I believe that Christ’s Church on earth will canonize a Saint 

© Kenneth Campbell 
All rights reserved

Hold on just a little while longer

My trousers dangled by a thread
I’ll go and get a pin she said
not another step I muttered
facing backwards to the gutter look there’s Marks & Spencer
over yonder
can’t you
hold on just a little while longer

© William Botley
All rights reserved

Monday 5 March 2012

Hold on just a little while longer

It`s a BIG decision,
Your pushing took my breath
away.  Heart racing, ahead of my brain.
Can I hold on to the answer as well as the wall?
A little while longer would bring a just pause with effect
Before rushing head l o n g naked into the world.

© Liz Redfern
All rights reserved

Matching socks

And why do you want this job?
The interviewer earnestly asked
(I thought the knighthood) 

But said
the pleasure of working for such a worth-while cause...and no bonus 

And what are you most proud of?
The interviewer inquired as if interested
(I thought getting here on time with matching socks)
But said
my passionate commitment to customer satisfaction

And what would success look like?
The interviewer probed with an air of self satisfaction
(I thought avoiding public scandal and cirrhosis)

But said
improving productivity and quality at the same time as reducing costs 

And what are the barriers to achieving success? The interviewer quizzed smugly
Me convincing you I can do the job and then finding out  I can't and we both look complete fools I said before I could stop myself.

That's the problem with living in a parallel universe and talking to people in the other one.

Matching socks

Interviewers question
Immediate thought
What I said
And why do you want this job?                                                          
the knighthood
My passionate commitment to customer satisfaction
And what are you most proud of ?,

getting here on time with matching socks

The sheer pleasure of working a 72 hour week for such a worth- while cause...and  no bonus, I said

What would success look like?

no  scandal or cirrhosis

Improving productivity and quality at the same time as reducing costs I said.

What are the barriers to success?

(Me convincing you I can do it and then finding I can't and we both look complete fools) I said before I could stop myself.

That's the problem with living in a parallel universe and talking to people in the other one.


© Liz Redfern
All rights reserved

Thursday 1 March 2012

Artistic Indulgence

"Artistic indulgence of whatever kind is the antithesis of artistic unity. Artistic unity is the practice which holds that there must be nothing in the story that is irrelevant to the plot; that there be nothing mentioned that does not contribute to the meaning, texture, or final result of the story. Artistic unity is the weaving and ultimate uniting of all the puzzle pieces, and every good plot has plenty of it. In short, if you’re going to draw attention to a thing, make sure it pays off, otherwise readers will feel like Alice chasing the White Rabbit down a hole, only to find nothing at the end."

from  Hooker Boots, White Rabbits, and Artistic Unity « jsascribes: