Poetry, stories and other mutterings

Journal Entry - 1 January 1942 A Country under Occupation is a sad, depressing and dismal state of affairs at best, but at the turn of a new year, there is a poignant sense of despondency mixed with a faint glimmer of hope that someone somewhere will come and save us from this ever present darkness... Sign in to see full entry.

I sat on the back steps, your sweater Draped across my lap. The smell of you permeated The worn fabric. A cold Reminder of what once had been. The porch light crackled, blinked, then Somehow managed to find The strength to go on. Oddly soothing were the distant voices, That rose and fell, then rose... Sign in to see full entry.

Brittle and fragile as a leaf, Fallen to the ground following A harsh, brisk autumn storm. The landscape now barren and desolate As a cup without water. Once soft and delicate, Now damaged over time and with the seasons. No longer carefree as a child – Running, chasing a ball, shouting, Playing –... Sign in to see full entry.

Lying motionless on the bed, Surrounded by darkness. Muscles tense; tongue silent. Limbs stiff – wooden – like a puppet, Limp in the hands of a cruel master Whatever he commands she must do. Such is the choice of The puppet child. Then one night it happens. The master is there – he always is. She is... Sign in to see full entry.