Articles written by Paul French

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About me - Paul French

I have always loved to write. That's the only relevant thing to say.

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Lifetimes: 1 of 9
Chalice I'll figure it out She says dryly and uncontestable Like a cup to the brim with nothing. The future shakes her hand But it never kisses, never beckons, nor bows, Her cup is empty after all; always-is-has-been-will. Been daily drunk? Yeah, long time ago, she says for her story A story about Meth and the kids she sold ... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The drive-in: 5 of 33
The Happy Meal Window A murmur and I pull forward A breeze knitting through my fingers It's a pleasant day to taste America. Got to calculate the distance So I don't have to reach Too far In the wait, I have to think That there's a world without this Without cellphone napkins And clocked-out words Without sanguine jingles An... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Creation: 15 of 37
A Reunion in the Dark Blanket Her inexperience, in itself, was enough to derange the eye of Janet's mind into a state not unlike the hazy consciousness familiar with a dream as her thickly rimmed spectacles floated in front of her; tumbling through the sterile air like elevated dancers, they heralded her new environment's wo... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Haiku: 125 of 299
Familiarity A soft breeze blowing A subtle tickling comfort Taken for granted More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: If only you knew me: 27 of 63
Protesting It's six p.m. and she's still Circumnavigating the world's Latitudes with her tongue, Ignoring the rest of coplanar existence To talk about Sloth Bears, Beluga And Rock Wrens who, Seussian Though they may sound, Are, she claims, in a severe state: Dying because of Man's indent on her Gaia. She made a poster and it... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: On self-acceptance: 38 of 73
Agrarian I've uprooted old wishes Cast them stem and petal to the Dim Tilled old desires into rows of time, Waited, in ready wedlock, for something to grow On its own Without seed But soon I decided that seed was needed Enough to My project, a failure far enough Left dry, blank and aimless Like a long rifle bent or broken Th... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Remembering: 159 of 267
Grandmother I see a cross upon her wall The house is silent excepting the hum Of the air conditioner keeping her cool While she makes circles with her hands To wash away the grime of a meal past Between the walls of my delicate second home. More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Circle of life: 33 of 47
Under The Trees Speckles of light enter through the leaves The sonnet of the earth, a whisper, bends branches Grace allowing my silent rest beneath their swaying, I watch the spots of light reappear and disappear upon the earth And let the minutes trickle away while squirrels perform hurdles Above, in the woven canopy I'm th... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Sanity: 19 of 24
A Paternal Rationale Gone Awry There are those who agree upon the idea that the common man is nothing more than a mere ephemeral mammal with a purpose extending no further than reproduction. My wife is there in that plain white walled room screaming, giving birth; I could not bear to watch. Her sounds of pain almost seem pow... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: As time goes on: 56 of 66
Time's Guise The black hands move timelessly Their goal is yet unknown The hands, they move above me With a gentle clicking tone What guise is this that Time takes Why such a facile mechanism For the thing that steals and forsakes Men who await their cataclysm The round and ostensibly simple cellar For Time is cold to touch ... More..