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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: On mothers

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Mother's cardigan.My mother's cardiganStill hangs on the back of her chair,A fluffy pink confectionOf kitten-soft mohair,Crafted by her own hands fair.Seventeen years have comeAnd gone, nearly, since she passed on;But there is not a day,I do not think of herNot one that I do not remember,Close my eyes and visualiseHer needles... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Home

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One last look around the house.Memories unwind like skeins of woolunravelling from my mother's knitting needles.'Damn, I've dropped a stitch', she muttersand I pick up the thread and run with it.Thinking of times gone past,my unreliable recollection flies to thathouse by the river where I was born,where summer lasted forever,... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Childhood

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The Empty SwingsThe playground is empty,The children all goneOnly a half-hearted windHums the carousel's song.Where are they now?Those friends from my boyhoodThat merry band of kidsAll wanting to be Robin HoodOr Hi-Ho-ing SilverIn a white hat and maskHoping not to be asked, to be Tonto.Where are they now?Those loud red McKenz... More..

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: She was just gone

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MARGARET'S LAST TRIP Margaret Patterson rose from her bed just as day was breaking on the third Sunday in May. She could hear birds singing in the tree outside her bedroom and the gentle dawn light was beginning to infuse the sky with a delicate coral pink. It threatened to be a glorious day. Margaret smiled to herself. It wa... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The sea

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The Sea, the sea.Moving from fluorescent brightnessInto crepuscular night, my eyesFail me. Like the novice sightlessLearning Braille, my foot meets stoneAnd I stumble towards an understandingOf the uneven terrainOver which I'm travelling.Rain settles on my empty eyelidsAnd runs rivulets down my stubbly cheeks.I am drawn forwa... More..

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Relationships

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Remember, remember There are times I remember with fondness, and times I wish I could forget. The seasons each hold myriad joys and fears, stratagems and tears. If we could go back just once, but change things forever, would we be the better for it? When summer ended and autumn crept along the river bank that snaked past our... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Birds

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The SeagullI see it allWith my scalpel eye.Above me, frozen carbonSparkles in capacious black,An empty sack of loneliness.I ride its Arctic windsHover, in stillness, glideThen fall to harlequin lightsBeckoning me.A sliver of silver through murky green.My preyMy dinnerMy reason for being.We are oneInstant combatantsIn survival... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Grandparents

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Under SnowThey sleep under the earth,Those lovers of long ago,Lying together, but apartLike suburban neighboursSeparated by a thin communal wall;Under Cemetery Regulations,They occupy plots numbered 202 and 204.They met, chancily, almostTo the day, a century ago;She a Sunday-school teacherHe an older rogue, but small,For year... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: I remember

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Past CaringI remember, I rememberWhen your nails tattooed my spineAnd drunken words of passionDrooled from your lips on to mineAs we clung together tightlyThrough a night of velvet heatOn that couch with wonky bed springsBound in eager torn sheets.You took me under coverAs I learned your outer frameYou were the perfect loverB... More..

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The moon

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The Man In the Moon.When I was young, and the moon was newMother would gather us up, and take us toThe water's edge, where the river ran slowReflecting shafts of silver from long ago,And, all in a line, she'd have us bowObeisance to the icy globe in the sky,Or on balmy nights, seeing reflection through glassTwiddle in our poc... More..

Bob Mundle

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