Greetings!
My first book, Tales From a Goth Librarian, was published through Kerlak Publishing early 2009. The book is a collection of short stories ranging from dark and spooky to Steampunk to psychological thriller. The book also features bad but humourous
+ more bio informationAs they laid side by side on the cool sheets She instantly thought of another When her time was endless and her thoughts were her own. She claimed no match for her other; No match could come close. Seeking warmth, her body struggled To find a better spot, the dreaming lost.
Seven black homeless men Sit on a corner stoop, Waiting for the day to begin. Their scarred faces Tell various stories of loves And reunions, Of disappointments and failures, What they could have been And what they turned into. They sit like pensive crows, Viewing the world with Blackened archaic eyes. They receive no respec...
She cried on my shoulder and I let her Because I was bored. Her lover left her to dream And suddenly, I was jealous.
My own misery, falling deeper and deeper Down the rabbit hole when I was too careless to ignore it. It comes and goes and still I want it, This feeling that somehow I was once I child Who read books with pretty pictures, searching for your name When you were too kind it give it to me, candy For the intellectual, causing one'...
I thought I saw her again. The pale strands of hair fall delicately Upon a neck ripe for cutting. She came to me, standing among trees Gracefully. I wonder, she said, If I am dreaming you. Whose reality is this That locks horns with Fate? I wanted to keep my mouth shut For fear of the bugs escaping. Silence has damned me Kee...
Alone, she sits in her room Waiting for the words to come, The words of letting him know That she loved him. He knew, yesterday in fact, When they took a drive to the country. Saturday, the refresh of sun and wind Giving light to flowers dressed for Spring. Alone, she remembers, refusing to let go Of what she had experienced...
Concentrate. Slow and supple, strained Beyond limits imposed by The weak minded. She told me that it would Be difficult to believe But once I did, the rest would Be nothing. I carried my own thoughts Into the proverbial mixture, Thinking that I had A chance of redemption. Instead, I found bitter virgins Crying to a dead god,...
To home from work. I saw a flock of birds against a palette of grey. Their wings, creating a wall of black, noir, Coming alive over the city Like a comfort Like a plague. I refused to be blind to what they represented As others walked along with milky eyes given to them through their own choice. Birds swirling, dancing, into...
British writers seem to have such a penchant for giving readers a view of a world thought hidden to most; a world full of high manners, well played roles, and lives hanging on a single word, threat, or understood promise. This world is for the privileged few and outsiders are rarely welcomed in unless invited. Those of the m...
There have been many claims that there is a connection between creativity and madness; famous artists, writers, and others with their gift for beyond the mundane appear to the outsider to be touched with a spark of insanity; where else could some of our creative accomplishments come from? For those of us on the inside, howev...
Kimberly Richardson
Member since: November 2009
Articles Written: 16