13:43, 29 May 2015
00:52, 17 Nov 2014
Hour of Writes
Hello! The site is going public this week so no formal competition as live content may get lost in the process, but instead please write short pieces entitled 'A Small Story' in Notes and share them!
10:47, 14 Nov 2014
there must have been
a hundred kites up
in the sky that day—
every colour and size
filled the dark, blue sky.
people set out
their picnic baskets
and brought out
their Sunday's best
behaviour and such.
all was well
until one little
red kite teased
the three-times winner.
it took just seconds
to bring him down.
and armies soon
took their sides.
strings were cut
kites were felled
as laughter died
the winner was
a gust of wind
and so this year,
there was no trophy
to take home at all.
talk is abound
for the next fest
when kites will be painted
like country flags.
rumours are rife
as to who might win
against the sky.
15:01, 8 Nov 2014
sometimes I think should go prison, because I could murder a cup of tea.... anybody?
12:57, 8 Nov 2014
Hour of Writes
Hi Magnus! The notes don't connect to anything currently, but are in a state of aided evolution. You mark entries if you have entered the competition. The new title will be released last thing Sunday night / first thing Monday morning and you'll get an email when that happens!
Writing this to test a bit of fixed functionality with editing existing notes...let's see if it saves...
12:46, 8 Nov 2014
Hour of Writes
Some beautiful and thought-provoking pieces this week in response to 'What Is Treason?'. Don't forget to do your marking! Results on Wednesday. Looking forward to our www debut soon... x
21:56, 7 Nov 2014
bloody cat's tapping at the window again
21:53, 7 Nov 2014
loved Mother hood poem. Do the notes connect to the texts? how do I mark entries?
21:50, 7 Nov 2014
navy blue, dark hue, the colour of old school shoes, scuffed. walls, why are you so blue and impermeable?
15:02, 7 Nov 2014
The sound of a cushion being plumped....
10:43, 7 Nov 2014
Following my return to England, if I needed to feel peaceful I would imagine Singapore - the spiced smell in the atmosphere, the sense of order, the warmth of the air, and the calm heavy torrential rain which fell for an hour or so every afternoon. And the bright umbrellas and green tea frappucinos in the coffee shops. Writing this, I see that it works for me still.
22:21, 31 Oct 2014
Before the party I was feeling slightly
22:52, 23 Oct 2014
great comp guys
11:32, 15 Oct 2014
many minds manifest cityscapes like forests
16:38, 20 Feb 2014
Winning entries from testing have started appearing on the site
00:59, 18 Feb 2014
i posted one of my earlier stories @ creatavist...
18:31, 16 Feb 2014
Down Hill Fast
A dog with a bone,
my mind takes the chosen phrase,
attaches it to random images of you
in the hospice during those final days
and I am struck again
by the power of the psyche
to stubbornly go where it needs to go,
to write what needs to be written
over and over and over again
until the story of your death
becomes a well trodden path
aching but familiar,
through fine powdered snow.
12:03, 15 Feb 2014
I would have to dedicate part of it, to people who had influenced my life. My Nan passed away at 99 and had always been such an admirable person. I would have to post something there that she asked me to create - My tribute to the Queen.
12:00, 15 Feb 2014
My Facebook movie would be on-going. A writer should always be able to create and share.
11:58, 15 Feb 2014
This piece would certainly be there. As the first piece of poetry ever written by myself. It was sent to the guide dogs for the blind and recorded on tape for their members and followers to hear.
"Looking from the window,
On to the back lawn,
I watched with sheer fascination,
As the family were being born.
Jet is the oldest of the bunch,
The first one to arrive,
Without a doubt he's always shown,
The others how to survive,
Snowy who's the next in line,
Has a coat like new fallen snow,
She's always as bright as a button,
With big eyes that appear to glow,
Then comes Patch, such a sweet thing,
White from toe to tail,
With just an area of black around one eye,
A lovely looking male!!
He's followed closely by Toby,
Different again to the others,
He has a smashing curly coat,
And a temperament to match his mothers,
Then last of all but by no means least,
You come to my favourite of all,
Ben - looking cute and cuddly,
But alert at the quietest call.
That completes the Family,
What a beautiful picture they make,
Huddled close together,
With the puppies barely awake,
Dad is a lovely old dog,
Good natured through and through,
Mom is ever faithful,
A companion forever true,
Before we know it the puppies,
Will all have separate lives,
Where they will help people less fortunate,
By becoming their ears or their eyes.
It would have to be part of My Facebook Movie.
11:40, 15 Feb 2014
Whenever I think of you
My eyes fill up with tears,
Especially when I think about those very happy years,
When yesterday was not important and tomorrow,
Just another day,
When hours flew by
In such a positive way.
But now that it all over and you are no longer here,
And I just sit and wish that your memory would disappear.
11:37, 15 Feb 2014
It would contain footage of my nearest and dearest loved ones. Be full of poetry written by myself letters written from the heart
11:30, 15 Feb 2014
I would like to think that My Facebook Movie would hold all the gems of my life - the fact that I had started up my own business at just 20 years of age and that it was still going strong 29 years later, having gone from strength to strength.
11:27, 15 Feb 2014
This is a difficult one. To be honest, I have very little to do with Facebook. Nevertheless, I have been shown things on there by other people and sometimes, I really cannot believe things that have been put on there by others. They are normally things that individuals should really be embarrassed with or even ashamed of! You know, like people in badly fitting clothes, terrible make-up or embarrassing situations.
07:26, 15 Feb 2014
i started the hour of writes journey at the anniversary of the bombing of dresden...
22:38, 14 Feb 2014
Hello everyone, spread the writing love! Happy writing!
22:37, 14 Feb 2014
Looking back now 2014 was a beautiful year for me. I finally got over a previous love and found a new one, all in the space of twelve months.
22:36, 14 Feb 2014
I felt a lump come to my throat just thinking about it. At which Simon decided to change the subject and tell me that he was divorced, had nine children all under 20 and was desperately looking for larger home. At that I said " I may be able to help you, I run the estate agents over the road".
22:31, 14 Feb 2014
Well fancy you remembering my name I thought to myself. "It's a fair few, I have to admit". I remarked. We stood and talked for quite sometime. I commented on my last ten years and told him how I lost the love of my life in a car accident in 2003. He said how he had remembered the accident being in the local paper, together with the horrific photo. Peter had been in his red sports car on his way back to Birmingham, that day in October, when the incident with a vehicle trailer caused it to take the roof right off. The accident killed Peter outright.
22:25, 14 Feb 2014
"It's been years Jenny hasn't it?" He commented. When we were at school, he was every girls dream. Lovely locks of blonde hair, broad shoulders and massive blue eyes.
22:23, 14 Feb 2014
It was such a difficult game sometimes. Some people won. Others lost. Simon to me was and always would be an absolute winner. I remember the day we met. I was rushing round Asda in search of something wonderful for tea. I needed some brainpower. My English lit essay needed to be in tomorrow. The deadline. As I starred at the fish in oily sauce, rows upon rows of it, he excused himself to come by. We meet again in the vegetable isle and finally, just as I was reaching for a bag of Rocket, we actually touched!
13:21, 14 Feb 2014
Has anyone tried making a voice note yet?
13:20, 14 Feb 2014
Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain.
09:50, 14 Feb 2014
'...now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?'
22:44, 13 Feb 2014
I couldn't believe it when I woke the next morning - there - again in his bed. All the regular signs surrounded me. Him lying half across me, and me showed right to the very edge of the mattress. Any empty Rose bottle on the bedside table along with my glass. God I was hot! Knew I would just have to get him off me. My cheeks flushed and my temperature soared!!
22:41, 13 Feb 2014
There was just no escape. I could of kicked myself. If only I hadn't of come down to my favourite spot, I would of had the chance to disappear and be gone from his life forever.
22:39, 13 Feb 2014
As I walked along the prom, trying desperately to avoid walking on all the fag ends and chewing gum, I suddenly saw him in the distance. He jumped in the air waving. "Jenny" he shouted. What did I do now I thought to myself. Well I couldn't just walk away, he was more than aware that I was there. I smiled and waved back.
22:36, 13 Feb 2014
After finishing my chips I crunched the polystyrene cup within my hand. I moaned at myself, saying that I should be half way back around the harbour by now. Otherwise he would be coming to look for me. I fastened the belt on my coat and pulled up the collar. Looking out across the harbour, the water appeared to be getting rougher, as all the stationary boats bobbed up and down in the water.
22:29, 13 Feb 2014
I now needed to know exactly what I was going to do. Should I stay and try to get my relationship with Paul to work, or to just walk away without him? It had to be my decision.
20:12, 13 Feb 2014
Suddenly I was brought back to life by a large seagull overhead and a young couple trying desperately to stop him stealing their evening meal.
20:10, 13 Feb 2014
Now the ball was in my court for a change. This really was my chance to do something about this dreadful situation. Was I brave enough to leave him? In my mind went through all the grief and hassle he had given me. I was no saint but I liked to think that I would be approachable. He would be able to tell me what he was really thinking. He didn't have to really hide how he was feeling. He could be honest with me and I would respect it.
20:06, 13 Feb 2014
I stood there so unhappy watching the waves lashing against the shore.
My heart was heavy. Our love was strong.
Paul loved storms. I should think so too! We had had many of them. Most of them full of thunder and lighting. Overhead suddenly there was the biggest clap of thunder and the dark grey clouds were highlighted by the electricity of the lightning.
21:59, 12 Feb 2014
What made it even worse, as though killing him wasn't enough, they had to do it in front of the children. Life is tough enough, when you have to have the difficulties of life put in front of you, but this was appalling. They saw one beautiful creature, full of grace, shot before their very eyes. What chance did a parent have of justifying that?
21:51, 12 Feb 2014
Yorkshire Wildlife Park would of given him such a brilliant home. Enabling him to breed with his own species, as he looked across the Yorkshire Dales. What a perfect, perfect thought.
21:50, 12 Feb 2014
My writing always comes from the heart, with the head correcting it as it is written down on the paper. My writing is often personal and I can feel extreme emotion when it comes to actually reading it aloud. This is certainly no exception.
21:36, 12 Feb 2014
Today I feel so different. Sick to the core. Marius was perfect and THEY were worried about him inter-breeding.
15:38, 12 Feb 2014
There's a storm coming: not the towering grey walls that rise up out of the sea like clouds of ink, a dark madness growing within them, but a storm of opinion, of minds united, ready to crash down as one to wash this all away.
15:36, 11 Feb 2014
Hello! You can publish notes to this ShowNotes feed by making a note and then clicking the padlock.
14:35, 11 Feb 2014
They talk about the food: excited eyes spooning mounds of congealed, melted, cheese onto paper plates that buckle under the weight.
13:42, 11 Feb 2014
I love the idea that reading is thinking with someone else's mind
11:22, 11 Feb 2014
Líbera me, Dómine, de morte ætérna
10:20, 11 Feb 2014
One of the most evocative passages from T. S. Eliot:
The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
16:50, 10 Feb 2014
When I fell down into this place,
My father drew his whole day's pay,
My mother lay in a set-in bed,
The midwife threw my bundle away.
- W. S. Graham, The Nightfishing
01:05, 14 Dec 2013
Hour of Writes
It's late. I'm winding down. The fire is burning out.
11:01, 9 Dec 2013
Hour of Writes
We prioritise and give acclaim to things based on recommendations, even with literature. Publishers are like the appointed gatekeepers of the literary world who allow us to know we are not wasting our time when we read. The only point of reading something no one else has read is in order to know something they don't, or in order to seek to popularise the information therein.
22:48, 4 Dec 2013
Chemically, wood is a composite material of about 50% flexible ‘cellulose fibres’ (what paper is made of), glued together with about 30% ‘lignin’ (a biopolymer – a type of plastic). Lignin has this amazing property: that if you heat it to 100⁰C it softens just enough for the cellulose fibres slide against each other if some external forces are introduced. This means when the wood is hot, it can be squashed, stretched, compressed, split, twisted and bent to some degree without breaking it. When it cools the lignin sets, and when the wood dries the bend becomes permanent.
11:45, 30 Nov 2013
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background
15:50, 20 Nov 2013
Hour of Writes
And we’re frozen
in the searchlight of