Gahks

Empty Summer It should never have happened. In the waning days of that dreadfully sticky summer, Roger slithered about on his sofa like an outstretched sloth, gazing dreamily at the ...

This is a story that's very personal to me - it's based on my own experiences. Enjoy. Terminal The figure strode excitedly that morning towards that place, intent on issuing ...

The Question He struggles to oust His writhing thought from mouth Yet never succeeds. The Dream The film appears in Front of your eyes, then starts to Slowly fade away. ...

Prologue Stumbling through the pitch blackness, the man tried to haul himself away from his attacker and towards the safety of his villa. Begging in desperation, he threw his crimson-coated ...

That was the first time she knew. Her eyes fluttered open. She reached out to grab the watch on her bedside table, yet as she outstretched her arm, she felt ...

Tourist The first thing that strikes you Is the heat. The unrelenting Punishment of the sun. The smells of Opium, incense and dust smother you In a suffocating blanket. Everyone ...

The first part of a play in progress: one act, one scene, in real time. CHARACTERS MASON, a detective in his late thirties BRADSHAW, a detective in his early twenties ...

Tortured Souls The taxi pulled up outside the terraced Ealing house early one morning. Its occupant squeezed out and smiled amid the sneering winter chill. He’d found the right address. ...

The second part of my psychological crime drama. THOMPSON: (Addressing the audience) You know, you’ve had it easy. All your lives you’ve had it easy. Going to a proper school. ...

Kaitak, July 1997 [pre]Morning; The smell of scrambled eggs permeates The air; the English rain fights At the window. Except we are not in England. The mist parts to reveal ...

The Human Bullet The young man sat there and stared at the pristine blue sky, clutching his gas mask. He could smell the salty sea air, hear the squawk of ...

I thought I'd acknowledge my birthday slightly differently this year. I've written two poems to celebrate my Chineseness (if there is such a word!) and me being sixteen. The Tank ...

After Suzanne's comments, I decided to revamp "Sixteen" and came up with a brand new poem: "Kaleidoscope." Kaleidoscope For my family and friends. Another hurdle conquered, another chasm crossed; anot

Speakers’ Corner For Patricia and the Reading School Public Speaking Team. He inhales the cool, crisp afternoon air that cleanses him as he scans his audience, waiting to begin. The ...

Walking with the Wind The wind howls around dark corners, breathes its dire ire all over the world. The walls of the house teeter and totter like an accordion. The ...

I wrote this three years ago: just a nice snippet of writing from the past. Enjoy. The Gingerbread Man Part One Once upon a time, far away in the celestial ...

Fragments [pre]Framed within precise dimensions, that fragment, immortalised for all eternity, morphs into a time when we could not care less about the way we looked or felt, but soon ...

Falling Apart Things fall apart so quickly. The vase that I tried madly to mend has broken once more. Now I am falling, falling apart inside. The pieces of my ...

That Night I have not come to the lake to confess my sins. For that night was the first and the only time we would ever be full of joy. ...

Strangers’ Meeting It’s funny how Fate works in unfathomable ways. Just a few days ago I met a man whose path I’d fallen into the day before. He was checking ...

Poem There is nothing you can find in the claustrophobia of life that is so immortal, so invincible, so intimate, as the vault that veils the treasure of your imagination.

Lake How many times did we both sit and stare out to space, wonder at the myriad secrets the water might conceal here? How many times did we both strip ...

The Tunnel Whose depths forever coil the secret we both shared: as we howled into the vice of glinting darkness, tasting passion, folding flesh, blinding each other with the agony ...

I may be sending this to "The Spectator" magazine (it's a leading current affairs magazine that includes poems submitted by various people), along with "Fragments" (see my portfolio). Thus, I ...

Past Imperfect The train with its granite-grey carriages rattled above as Luke strode down the pavement, his father’s hand steering him from behind. Graffiti whispered innuendos across the walls of ...

Summer Heat The sun casts his eye with contempt over the land. I feel him surveying me, stalking me, smothering me in his arrogance. His battle cry translates crushed ice ...

Park As the sun melts away the last drop of slumber, a once arid air trembles with a torrent of tongues. Flowers surrender their leaves to the generous rays. The ...

Soliloquy of an Unknown Soldier How I longed for the day I would see the sun we always sang about in this soulless hell. Death wandered these lonely ways, stalked ...

Under redrafting.

Exodus Amended according to elephant's suggestions. We have not deserted our bloodied, beloved city. The gods have deserted us, on the day that Earth tore herself apart, engulfing us in ...

Lament of a War Widow Late yesterday, the guns sent you to sleep my love. The birds are not singing today. The house lies still in safe slumber. I sip ...

The Chamber The silence is suffocating. Life consigned to eternal punishment here deadens, decays, dies in a few days. Chained to walls, spirits breathe invisible prayers, as they rot like ...

Surrender All our secrets lie bare before us. The sheets are a pristine white canvas, ready to cloud with our frustrations. The key turns in her fleshy lock. Behind her ...

Here it is! Can you spot the lone adjective? Stranger The wind breezed through the platform as Irene half-read the newspaper. She glanced at the board that hung above her. ...

Wishing on a Plane Written on a flight to New York. I don’t know who are the couple sitting next to me. They speak an entirely alien language – perhaps ...

Splinters Shattered into splinters, the shards of my heart shine in the moonlight. I stare into one, scrabbling in futility for a fragment of the chain of honesty that bound ...

London Dreams She has collapsed into the dark night, my own Lady Diana. I stare at her cascading complexion, caressing the features that her mother carved like a Michelangelo masterpiece. ...

The Business of Hearts The business of hearts is not to sell them needlessly on the market of romance in the sour hope of a rally in the stock. The ...

Killing His perfectly formed carcass lay exposed to the breezes, like vultures, that clawed against my clothes. Two bullets traced staccato tunnels through his delicate, textured skin. His eyes stayed

Cradling our hearts in each other’s minds, we listen to the waves as they whistle, swell, then draw away. Deep blue dissolves the sands of time that run through her ...

Windows Fire a bullet through a window and in a split second, it will shatter in a blind storm of glass. The decision is irrevocable, edit: like atrophy that licks ...

Christmas Kiss On the eve of our séance in the bedroom, the glass of your heart smashed against the wall and refused to fit itself back together. Each piece, one ...

Driven The moon shadows the sleek BMW that tears apart the shimmering night. At the wheel, my granddad tells me how he visited my father in the fatherland (a complete ...

Broken Light The sun’s fingers break the glassy vista that billows skywards and lights her ghostly eyes, as they follow mine with the tenderness of lost years. She haunts the ...

This poem has been taken down as it now appears in yours truly's anthology, "Public Spaces, Private Reflections." If you would like a copy, please contact me!

The "Man in the Picture" is a novella that concerns a Cambridge student who visits his professor and old friend at the university. In the course of the meeting, the ...

Wishing Well A ghostly white mist marbles the well that the ivy guards silently. The water within is thirsty for my silver. Armed to the hilt, I trigger a coin ...

Morning We knew he would die before daybreak. Now, the metallic, toothless sun heralds the chill of fresh anxieties. My life, my love, could burn up in seconds, under crackling ...

Winter Suite And our bedroom is a sunlit canvas all over which we'll paint our lives in dappled shades of scarlet and green. And I'll draw you out from the ...

This poem has been taken down as a new version now appears in yours truly's anthology, "Public Spaces, Private Reflections." If you would like a copy, please contact me!

This poem is Centre justified in the manuscript version. Please copy and paste into Word to appreciate its intended look before submitting a review. Many thanks for your understanding. STILL ...

Karaoke Blues The world has lost the oppressive shadow of the sun: tonight, we shelter our lives in warm mellow music. Our music. We release the violet fire that burns ...

Island Tide Evening wraps us in midsummer mist As it rolls into the shore from beneath placid waters, The sun still drawing its last fiery breath. Your face lies there, ...

Sign Language Our heat melts words Into silence undulating on the wind. You trace your finger across my body, Inscribing messages the gods shall never know, Your face lit by ...

This poem has been taken down as a new version now appears in yours truly's anthology, "Public Spaces, Private Reflections." If you would like a copy, please contact me!

Breathing, he composes each small step with fragile Artistry. His face is a porcelain Picture of concentration, thrown stiff by the wind, indifferent To such catatonic pursuits. His eyes flicker ...

Art First light brushes through half-closed blinds, illuminating the sculpture that lies aslant beside me. His innocence is crafted in that strong, stubble-less jaw. His legs are slender and tough, ...

The Shape of a Moment (after Pugh) And Bo Peep is up now, shepherding Her frail one-man flock to the jetty As the sun breaks out from the bay, Lighting ...

Imagine me and you chasing the crash of wavesthat follow the coast, the evening still yawning into nothing,then us reaching up to taste the air’s exquisite juice.Imagine me and you ...

It’ll all be in the past soon, like the world warsOr the Holocaust. But leaving itIs never easy – the memoryIs imprinted forever in the very coreOf my soul, in ...

…and this, ladies and gentlemen, is the wooden chairHe passed his last few moments in. Yes, madam? How old was he? Oh, no more than twenty, I expect,The poor thing. ...

The Authentic“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.” – David Hume, ...