Boy do I have a Grumpy Gift for you…

Not only do I love writing but I also enjoy reading. So many of the amazing things I read are enjoyed by so few, as not every literary marvel is also a marketing mogul. It’s this, i care to share most.

Imagination is the reality of the dreamer.

— Scott Ringenbach.

Stay tuned, and keep on orbiting those moons.

Indifferent World – makeshift26


I’m indifferent to you,
in this world made for two,
sharing what we have with the rest, wondering how we got this far on fumes.
The breath of life in view,
littering the streets with news,
of a better life for everyone.

Photo credit:

Navid Baraty

for more from this author, click here: https://makeshift26.wordpress.com/

First Blush – Yas Khan


Sun flares into the sapphire
My canvas rushes to capture
Birds flying through wands of gold, grey
Language of rainbow wings
Strength in wild of day
Divine comes through 
Sun warms aura of my consciousness
Adorning wisdom in my heart
I bleed in this odyssey
Where tears turn to diamonds
A jeweled promise
Like a timepiece
Holding the 


for more from Yassy, click here: https://yassy66.wordpress.com/

image: pixabay

Small Talk —Writer in Retrospect

You tell me I’m no fun,
But I think I’ve overdosed on it:
Years spent laughing, joking;
Often feeling none of it.

You tell me I should talk some more,
But what have I to say?
Nothing you would like to hear,
So I think it best I stay away.

You tell me there’s a world out there;
Well, what is that to me?
I am not you, my dear,
Nor will I ever be.

You suggest I should be happy,
That to speak to me you deign;
But if we’re to talk about the weather,
I think I’d rather speak of rain.

Read —Writer in Retrospect

Rainstorm Romance – Mark Tulin


It was a rainstorm infatuation.

The clouds romantically dimmed the skies.

She looked perfect under the veiled night,

deep brown skin, hair dripping of rainwater,

eyes as big as saucers.

A rainstorm of happenstance

that we’ll never regret,

even when we’re happily married

to someone else.

Originally published at The Poetry Bar.

read more from Mark at ‘Crow on the Wire’ here: https://crowonthewire.com/

Spaceship – Shllyn


We often joked about dying

Together in a spaceship

Blasting off above clouds

That looked like cotton fields

Toward the woman in the sky

We both fell in love with

And wrapping up our wanderlust-filled adventures

With the most exciting one of them all

Our eyes have cherished the moon

At her most brilliant moments

And we’ve kissed beneath her loving glow

More than I could have hoped when we met

But less than I still desire tonight

As you sleep covered in a sterile white hospital sheet

It looks like we”ll never make it to the stars

You may not even make it until tomorrow

So in the room that I requested have a view of the moon

With the blinds wide open

Like every night since you checked in

We held hands and both struggled to breathe

Below the light for which we could never satiate our desire

I’d like to believe she knew

And blew every cloud out of the sky

To get one last look at your stunning face

Or maybe it was you who held on long enough

Until she was able to be fully present for your grand departure

SWD 07/2019

Updated 02/2020

This is a fictional piece but I think I’d like to take this story further.

For more from Shllyn, click here: https://shllyn.com/

memories – hazel meadows


remembering you

is like being sick

and the sun shining outside.

the memories are beautiful

but I still feel like hell inside

for more from this author, please find here here: https://hazelmeadows.wordpress.com/

image: http://www.conversationsmagazine.org/web-features/2018/9/10/wzsa3i79220v5m2xc00bl8mxmq4zob

Museum —Divil the Bit

It’s about that which went before
and nostalgia is not an option.
So begins the road to the past
and I drive down Landseer street.
Land seer indeed. What things I’ve seen
and shared. But how to proceed?
Perhaps in prehistory; rocks and
the beginnings of life; a different
life in Belfast, aeons ago.I see myself

walking by as other people;

bright eyed and bushy tailed

not unlike that taxidermied hare
beside the world’s largest antlers.
I am layered like geological
features. I have ages and distinct
periods I could name. We stroll
through the Pleistocene all the way
down to the history of Ireland.
Dinosaurs to glacial progress; Gods,

religions, division all neatly divided
into glass cases. Labelled evidence
to learn from or most commonly
ignore. The Stranmilis setting also
means more. Yes, in memory; student,
drinker, idiot but the name itself. I
know it to refer to a ‘sweet stream’.
How we flowed, like water down the hill
to the traffic lights and on into Queen’s

Students’ Union, now in ruins (I lay in ruins
there too). My son urges me onward,
time travelling, consumed by
excitement. It is an unmitigated
joy to watch him run and look back
at me, at us. I see my next era as a
young father passing me angst ridden.
His face mirrors the stress on his
partner’s as their two charges lay
siege to the cuddly toys in the museum
shop. ‘What fucking genius set them
just high enough to reach?’ he asks the
world. There may be fatalities. We walk
out into the pelting rain and freeze of
February. There is too much to take in,

too much history which means only

a snippet or two may be recalled in

a quiet moment. We walk benath

bare branches looking for squirrels.

Read —Divil the Bit

Prompt – Pleasant Street


Why women only?
Are we victims–
I do not feel
like a victim
as I rise
my heart beating
my breath in and out
all day

for more from this author, please click here: https://areyouthrilled.com/

image: https://jaimehaney.com/product/rose-mystique/

Untitled Poem – Svelte


I look for you
between the sheets
where we fell into love
then into silence
a leaden hush
still blankets the woods
muffling morning
eerily still
the butterflies lay stiff
my fingers are numb and blue
thumbing through these pages
back and forth

I look for you.
– Jen

for more from Jen, you cal find her here at “Blase'”: https://wired4more.wordpress.com/

image: https://pixels.com/featured/between-the-sheets-thu-nguyen.html

The "Something Inside" – Intellectual Shaman

There is something inside of a man

it is his essence

a sense of himself.

It can be taken away

and it frequently is,

but he keeps searching for it

because he longs to get it back.

It is the substance that looks on misery and sees happiness.

It sings to him in pain.

It offers power in dark moments

when the things of the world dissert him.

It is usually found then.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Sometimes you find it in others

they have a sense of style,

frequently overlooked

It’s overlooked because it takes style to recognize it.

This thing can’t be bought and it doesn’t obey pleas of permission.

When found,

 it walks inside,


for more from this author, please click here: https://intellectualshaman.wordpress.com/

image: https://www.pinterest.at/pin/509821620295940041/?lp=true