Non-Fiction Prose Seeking Honest Critique
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Non-poetic writing including diary extracts, journal entries, letters, essays and art
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BrookeAlynn
Poem Published
Today 6:30pm
Today 6:30pm
Do I Know You? You Seem To Think You Know Me...
Oh, golden scales...balance, music, weight, armor?
Nose to nose, breath to breath, who hurt you so?
How can one be born into a garden then grow into a complete thorny asshole?
There is no reason to be cruel...
Look at me!!! Look at me damnit!!!
I gave everything to see a garden bloom, even at the cost of losing my place in it.
Life isnt fair, but if you knew that you could give yourself for others to make it, would you?
Or would you rather be remembered as a thorn in the side only?
I believe in the good left in humanity, I would die for unknown...
Nose to nose, breath to breath, who hurt you so?
How can one be born into a garden then grow into a complete thorny asshole?
There is no reason to be cruel...
Look at me!!! Look at me damnit!!!
I gave everything to see a garden bloom, even at the cost of losing my place in it.
Life isnt fair, but if you knew that you could give yourself for others to make it, would you?
Or would you rather be remembered as a thorn in the side only?
I believe in the good left in humanity, I would die for unknown...
#love
#kindness
#hope
#forgiveness
#emotions
17 reads
0 Comments
BrookeAlynn
Poem Published
Today 2:08pm
Today 2:08pm
A Good Morning, Can You Imagine?
Closing my eyes, soaking up the sun, feeling the warm rays move slowly across my skin like honey.
Birds joyously singing goodmorning to eachother, or maybe God.
Every ounce of me felt in this moment, bare feet on freshly cut green grass, the smell of fog burning off the Hayfield.
Opening my eyes...
I should get off this couch and go do that. 😂😉❤
Birds joyously singing goodmorning to eachother, or maybe God.
Every ounce of me felt in this moment, bare feet on freshly cut green grass, the smell of fog burning off the Hayfield.
Opening my eyes...
I should get off this couch and go do that. 😂😉❤
#happiness
#love
#hope
21 reads
0 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
Yesterday 11:55pm
Yesterday 11:55pm
Murder, Motive, and Memory: A Little Essay on Agatha Christie
The best encapsulation of detective novelist and “Queen of Crime” Agatha Christie’s appeal came, I think, from the poet Stevie Smith, in a review she wrote of Christie’s late novel, 1967’s Endless Night: “I mostly read Agatha Christie this year (and every year). I wish I could write more about what she does for one in the way of lifting the weight, and so on."
I myself read Agatha Christie as a child and am still very fond of her. I like reading her work in paperback form, as published by Fontana with those beautiful and eccentric covers. I return to Christie whenever I need...
I myself read Agatha Christie as a child and am still very fond of her. I like reading her work in paperback form, as published by Fontana with those beautiful and eccentric covers. I return to Christie whenever I need...
#murder
#books
#historical #nonfiction
#historical #nonfiction
26 reads
1 Comment
Kou_Indigo
Poem Published
29th Jun 2022 3:45am
29th Jun 2022 3:45am
The Demon Emperor of Rome: Part Two
#dark
#ShortStory
#memories
#historical
#epic
9 reads
2 Comments
Kou_Indigo
Poem Published
29th Jun 2022 3:38am
29th Jun 2022 3:38am
The Demon Emperor of Rome: Part One
#dark
#ShortStory
#memories
#historical
#epic
15 reads
0 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
27th Jun 2022 5:17pm
27th Jun 2022 5:17pm
My Culture Fix - II
My favourite author or book
Flannery O'Connor for author, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke for book.
The book I’m reading
The Woods Are Dark by Richard Laymon, in the restored and uncut edition by the late author's daughter, Kelly. Laymon was a "splatterpunk" author, in his case essentially meaning that his books are extremely trashy, extremely nasty, non-literary horror. Comparable to splatter films, basically, like Nightmares in a Damaged Brain, Cannibal Holocaust, et al. I enjoy them because I get all the fun of a silly, shocking story without having...
Flannery O'Connor for author, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke for book.
The book I’m reading
The Woods Are Dark by Richard Laymon, in the restored and uncut edition by the late author's daughter, Kelly. Laymon was a "splatterpunk" author, in his case essentially meaning that his books are extremely trashy, extremely nasty, non-literary horror. Comparable to splatter films, basically, like Nightmares in a Damaged Brain, Cannibal Holocaust, et al. I enjoy them because I get all the fun of a silly, shocking story without having...
#culture
34 reads
0 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
26th Jun 2022 5:25pm
26th Jun 2022 5:25pm
Literary Criticism
A couple of brief reflections,
one prosaic, one poetic.
(Both pathetic!)
(adapted from a couple of social media comments)
I grew up in a deprived seaside area, a town where all the county councils dumped their human refuse, so to speak, meaning in effect that we had a lot of mercenaries, untreated psychiatric patients, and even sexual offenders wandering around. The sort of place where you’d sit in McDonald’s and the mothers in the next booth would point at a man walking past and say “he’s a paedo”, or “he deals drugs.”
...
one prosaic, one poetic.
(Both pathetic!)
(adapted from a couple of social media comments)
I grew up in a deprived seaside area, a town where all the county councils dumped their human refuse, so to speak, meaning in effect that we had a lot of mercenaries, untreated psychiatric patients, and even sexual offenders wandering around. The sort of place where you’d sit in McDonald’s and the mothers in the next booth would point at a man walking past and say “he’s a paedo”, or “he deals drugs.”
...
#school
#books
#college
44 reads
2 Comments
Kou_Indigo
Poem Published
24th Jun 2022 8:16pm
24th Jun 2022 8:16pm
The Second Life of Vlad Dracula: Part Two
#death
#rebirth
#ShortStory
#memories
#historical
20 reads
2 Comments
Kou_Indigo
Poem Published
24th Jun 2022 8:14pm
24th Jun 2022 8:14pm
The Second Life of Vlad Dracula: Part One
#death
#rebirth
#ShortStory
#memories
#historical
22 reads
2 Comments
Cloven_Zonkle
Poem Published
24th Jun 2022 5:37pm
24th Jun 2022 5:37pm
You Show Me Where I Am In Error
And I hasten to correct myself
#love
#friendship
#TruthOfLife #honesty
#TruthOfLife #honesty
52 reads
2 Comments
BrookeAlynn
Poem Published
23rd Jun 2022 12:15pm
23rd Jun 2022 12:15pm
Little Boy Red
Little Boy Red, come out of the sun.
The garden is planted, and the work is all done.
The cows are all sleeping and the sheep have been shorn, the willows all weeping and the crows overlooked our sweet corn.
I know you are tired, for the day has been long, but the doves beckon us to swing to their song.
Whip-or-wills calling the sun to go down, so I know it's time to rest, no time to be blue... my little boy Red.
The garden is planted, and the work is all done.
The cows are all sleeping and the sheep have been shorn, the willows all weeping and the crows overlooked our sweet corn.
I know you are tired, for the day has been long, but the doves beckon us to swing to their song.
Whip-or-wills calling the sun to go down, so I know it's time to rest, no time to be blue... my little boy Red.
#happiness
#love
#emotions
45 reads
1 Comment
BrookeAlynn
Poem Published
22nd Jun 2022 9:12pm
22nd Jun 2022 9:12pm
Dance Love
She loved to dance like the wild flowers blowing in the field, free and without reservations or fear.
Let her cover the cracks and crevices with green ivy instead of tears.
Bloom bloom little buttercup, spill like the fragrance bottle on the antique dresser, soaking into the fine oak, be a reminder to her when she sits at its mirror to try to make old and tired beautiful and new again.
Lace thigh highs, black dancing shoes with the golden buckle. Pin up curls that will be unbridled like her laughter by the nights end.
Silk bra straps getting pushed back on her shoulders...
Let her cover the cracks and crevices with green ivy instead of tears.
Bloom bloom little buttercup, spill like the fragrance bottle on the antique dresser, soaking into the fine oak, be a reminder to her when she sits at its mirror to try to make old and tired beautiful and new again.
Lace thigh highs, black dancing shoes with the golden buckle. Pin up curls that will be unbridled like her laughter by the nights end.
Silk bra straps getting pushed back on her shoulders...
#happiness
#love
#TimeHeals #emotions
#TimeHeals #emotions
42 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Non-Fiction Prose Seeking Critique: Short Stories, Diary Entries and Letters
