abstract Archives - Spillwords

Destiny

PhlammesJanuary 28, 2020

Destiny written by: Phlammes Dotted in blunts of its innate ascriptions. the very reason for existence, carved in abstract of a purported virtue.&nb...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

A Billet Doux From a Philophobic

AsceticquillJanuary 2, 2020

A Billet Doux From a Philophobic written by: Asceticquill It's hard not to abhor people, things, institutions, they break your crasis rollicking wi...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Mowgli’s Mother

Mehreen AhmedJanuary 1, 2020

Mowgli's Mother written by: Mehreen Ahmed @MehreenAhmed2 “What a strange name? Mowgli’s mother,” Brenda Braidy said. “Yes, very strange,” said her...

EnglishLiterature7 min read

Pt78

Corey BrockingtonDecember 27, 2019

pt78 written by: Corey Brockington Peculiarities of an unstable one, intrigued A woman to invest interest in the stranger, Who? Had Been stab...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Eyes and Coasters Go Unused

Lauren WhiteNovember 7, 2019

Eyes and Coasters Go Unused written by: Lauren White @hellolauren528 On my table is a coaster When it works It makes the transporter sound I lov...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Forsaken

Art BlacktoothOctober 25, 2019

Forsaken written by: Art Blacktooth Slipping into destiny, I seek the animal spirit, the lone phantom of conscience which tickles my fear. I track h...

EnglishHalloweenPoetry1 min read

As I Fall With The Rain

Richard GrahnOctober 11, 2019

As I Fall With The Rain written by: Richard Grahn Right now, I hear a knock at my door. I listen as if there is some great meaning attached to my...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Sky Song

Tanya RakhSeptember 16, 2019

Sky Song written by: Godfrey Holy and Tanya Rakh a sunset of muscle for memory fibers a sliver of tongue for each grain of pain we seep from thi...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Bites of The Gangland

Ethan LesleySeptember 5, 2019

Bites of The Gangland written by: Ethan Lesley @ethananarchy IT'S TIME TO RETIRE 'HEARTBREAKER' AS A COMPLIMENT. something-something-onething in...

EnglishPoetry5 min read

A Simple Reject

Art BlacktoothSeptember 4, 2019

A Simple Reject written by: Art Blacktooth I had missed my train in life, a lone marker in the sand-swept clean by the tide. From an early age, you ...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Valentina

Corey BrockingtonSeptember 3, 2019

Valentina written by: Corey Brockington (continuum) Smoke and mirrors and allegory in the hit— this bullet is instigated. Chem trailing from nost...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

In A Square Circle

Ionuţ CalotăAugust 2, 2019

In A Square Circle written by: Ionuţ Calotă I wake up scared at night and hesitatingly open the fridge to see if it is still alive. It seems to me ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

The Orphan Seed

Art BlacktoothJuly 10, 2019

The Orphan Seed written by: Art Blacktooth The pulse of a mother's love is tense, a cluster of tiny cells hungry for protein. There is no warmth ins...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Father’s Veil

Corey BrockingtonJune 19, 2019

Father's Veil written by: Corey Brockington Unworldly? Shirley oblivious in lighthouse Her venture is without coma, oh, sleepless Shirley fishing ha...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Gerardine White (mostly called Ger) grew up in wild open country of West Limerick, Ireland. Her country life is represented in her poems and has a strong bearing on her core values and education. She inherited the skill of poetic rhyme from both of her parents and her Grandad – who were all fine poets and storytellers. Her education took place mostly in South West Ireland and the rest of it is gleaned from travel, from life, and from being an avid reader of all kinds of books. In recent years she has returned to poetry writing. This past year seeing her published in four Anthologies from Clarendon House Publications. She sees herself as a Spiritual person, very connected with life in all forms. She is happily married for past 20 years and currently lives in Sussex, UK. She enjoys healthy pursuits of country walks with a nice cuppa tea and chat at the end.

Resurrection by Suzanne Craig-Whytock

On the day that Budgie died, I was young and very sad. He was a pretty bird, always singing in his cage. Sometimes we let him out to fly around, and on that day, the curtains were wide open and he slammed into the glass hard. Momma put him into a shoe box and I cried as we buried him in the back garden among the lilies. The next morning, very early, I snuck out of the house and dug him up with a garden trowel because I wanted to see him one more time. When I took the lid off the shoe box, his eyes were open and his wings fluttered ...