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 sheilarogers4322@yahoo.com

Valerie 01884 84 04 22 valtay@btinternet.com

Thursday 16 May 2013

Searching for ‘it’

I have abandoned all hope.
I can’t hazard one guess. 

I am up against the wall,
- blocked - without a clue.

I don’t get it. 
I give up.  OK?

Game over. 
I’m not playing.

Faith, I’ve had enough.
Remove the blindfold. 

Thank you.  So, how do I
write this poem?

© Sophia Roberts
All rights reserved

Blind Belief

Rain gnaws windows.
I admire the tapestry,
alone.

November daylight fades.
I sense a presence.
Nerves prickle –
I freeze, feel trapped, can’t breathe.

‘That room...?’
‘...is haunted,’ the guardian agrees.
‘Malevolent?’
‘A murderess...’

‘So there you are!’  Husband and friends advance.
‘A  g-ghost...’
‘Rubbish!’ they hoot,
‘Just tales for tourists.’

© Gill Dunstan
All rights reserved

Blind Faith

I met Jesus in a dream.
He had pale blue eyes. 
Blue?
They saw to my soul and accepted me,
making my school days easier to bear.

My parents fretted and doubted,
the headmistress said,
take yourself in hand!

Blind to reason,
I hid in the reflection
which I had placed
in his eyes.

© Valerie Taylor
All rights reserved

BLIND FAITH

Stand up all those whose faith is blind
Your fervour is so essential for all mankind
There are Ten guidelines for human life’s demands
And all should heed what our Christian God Commands
By sticking to the fundamentals of Canon Law
One will witness human happiness… just soar & soar

© Kenneth Campbell
All rights reserved

Blind Faith

This ye should know of Blind Faith ...

.... Hostess of ‘The Corsair and Compass’ in Penzance:

“Blind she may be, but she can sniff trouble at twenty paces, mark bamboozlers stealing her grog, catch ‘em and crush ‘em ‘til their ribs crack.

“And every night she lights a candle, sits in her chair waiting for Capn. Trewhella’s return.”


© Tim Scott
All rights reserved

After that nothing was the same

NOTHING was the same people said
AT a stroke everything shifted
ALL those lies
LIKE pulling a loose thread and unravelling time
IT was relentless scab picking to reveal new skin, it
WAS about truth and healing and knowing, just knowing
BEFORE change comes choice and choice brings change so

© Liz Redfern
All rights reserved

"after that nothing was the same"

standing at the urinal
my best friend Nigel
tried to kiss me
which was rather a shame
after that, nothing was the same


© William Botley
All rights reserved