Writer's Showcase
The Visitor The room was silent, save for the occasional sounds made by Nigel turning…
UNDER HER CHAPEAU She puts on her make-up, to the moon a tribute, a…
In our twosome kitchen – on the glazed cupboard door – hangs a tiny wooden…
Confidence is a very strange thing. I just don’t know how to put my finger…
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How can I write a poem about the murder of a nation, it’s history,…
Something Beautiful “god is a song half-heard in the street” a yellow fog November…
