Sailinghomeward's profile
AGE:
54
LOC: United Kingdom
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: February 27
LOC: United Kingdom
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: February 27
I am an older guy, all of 52yrs young. I now live in Oxford UK. It was in this county I was raised, about 30 miles north of here in a little market town called Banbury (well, actually, it was a village called Croughton, but this was the nearest town) and yes, it is the ‘Banbury of Ride a Cock Horse’ fame. In 1986 I moved to Scotland, studied photography and stayed until 2003 when I moved to the USA, I returned back to the UK rather grudgingly late in 2005, since my return, sadly, I have hardly written a line. I need to find inspiration again. Oh to be home again, across the great stream where eagles do fly and wolves roam the plains…....
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Never quite got there, still trying.
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The yellows & blues with greens in between hang on a wall in threes and twos From their nails and cables they will not fall. It’s time to see countries abroad, let the lookers enter! From the sidewalk they come in twos and ones with cameras rolling And questions to be asked, The TV is seen, It’s a tiny machine. Moves around on three legs, with an extra pair. It zooms and pans around the walls picking on colors like a termagant. The people are warm they have drunk their wine, they have been th...
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She will continue to drift through life gain some solace from occasional breezes that float by. Are you the mercenary? One of the galleons searching the seven seas for a stroke of happiness that might happen to catch on your mainsail, when it does, do you net in, hold it in a bottle for the world to see like a butterfly collector, Maybe you are the Queen of the Butterfly Collectors.
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The orchid with the strange name gives me images of fame, when I try to get up that hill I snort so much I need that pill. I see the moon when the sun is warm my head goes dark I feel I will fall to the bottom I go and join the flow, swallowed by the fear of being to slow
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The steely gray skies of winter creep over the black tile roofs, bringing with them the moist winds to dampen the land with its frosty breath. Trees stand bare like fingers reaching reaching for the light of a distant season. Gutters carry the debris of summer the occasional gold sticks firm Gone from green to red leaving us thinking the land is dead. A flash of white passes overhead the gull swoops low to take up the bread. Red tile roofs and flecks of white brown colored brick hold together...
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Very nice and quite rhetorical. It is nice to see the anti-darwin and darwinism theories pulled together as well as the light humour injected into the first part. It is a theme I have tried to explore, (I also have a love on a distant shore) but you have reached the pole first. Great writing
Nice idea which deserves to be explored. Most material dealing with the subect of this kind of assisted suicide will be "not acceptable" in most modern cultures, but it does not mean that writers should leave it alone. On a critical point, the spelling is the worst contender in this short story, it lets the reader down as stops the flow of the story overall, as one has to stop and take the surrounding context into account. (Did you use a spell checker? if so, try to avoid this as it does not ...
Very memorable and oh so typical of the young who only learn what they hear and see. and would most of not use an expletive in that situation, especially the toe :)
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Whoa, you have been around. Is this actually life experience or mind seeing thoughts of society. Either way it shows how we are denegrating the very thing societies leaders claim to be improving. Will you offer you shelter, will you not run away anymore? Strong visual stuff!
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