Beneath the silent stillness of early morning, I hear the city’s subliminal thrum. It emerges from the shadows, rising to a roar if you acknowledge it. Fears coalesce that way, too. So do secrets, like the one you thought you’d kept from me.
"5 minute walks"
food, beauty, happiness.
A sailboat, a couple, and their little dog too.
Where your words matter.
Poems | England | Staffordshire | East Anglia | Northern Ireland | Nearing the end of the marathon that is The Needwood Poems.
you may ask yourself, well, how did i get here
The road to the forum is paved with good intentions.
Mostly unfinished stories primarily produced as a direct result of my association with the OC Writers Guild
A Clairvoyant Journey. One Life. One Quest. Find the Truth.
My Great Aunt Norah's wartime diaries, 1938-1948
fitting somewhere between family and fiction
Confessions of a Grammar Ghoul