attraction Archives - Spillwords

Sink or Swim

Helen ChambersMarch 23, 2020

Sink or Swim written by: Helen Chambers @Chambers9Helen A spring tide swept Waverley in, and she changed everything. Unlike a tide, she stayed. She...

EnglishLiterature2 min read

The Rally

Rana Preet GillMarch 7, 2020

The Rally written by: Rana Preet Gill @DrRanaPreetGill She had been sitting in the sun, along with others, for many hours now, waiting to be ferrie...

EnglishLiterature10 min read

Attention

Gabriela MDecember 26, 2019

Attention written by: Gabriela M @shortprose1 I resurrected him. It was a mischievous act meant to attract the attention of mortals. Instead I ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Morning Montage

Judge BurdonSeptember 10, 2019

Morning Montage written by: Judge Burdon Unplugged my alarm clock I can't get out of bed Gave my shadow the day off I'd rather lie here with you ...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry0 min read

Since I Fell In Love With You

Julie PowellJuly 10, 2019

Since I Fell In Love With You written by: Julie Powell @jules_cupcake As soon as I saw you I fell for you Like never before my feelings so raw I...

EnglishPoetry2 min read

Beyonce

Marla Lacherza BraccoJune 5, 2019

Beyonce written by: Marla Lacherza Bracco @mangopickles Since we have met I have found a few more bodies that inspire me: The prepossessing curves ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Destructive Experience

Jose A. TovarApril 3, 2019

Destructive Experience written by: Jose A. Tovar This wild passion, I cannot control it. This intense fire, I cannot extinguish it. She has tainte...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Red, poetry written by Kelli J Gavin at Spillwords.com

Red

Kelli J GavinMarch 2, 2019

Red written by: Kelli J Gavin @KelliJGavin Lips so red they may be bleeding At least that is what he thought when He saw me across the too full roo...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry0 min read

Pull

Becca LotusFebruary 23, 2019

Pull written by: Becca Lotus @BeccaLotus She is the fickle moon And he, the wild sea Pulling Releasing Pulling Releasing Magnetic clandestine d...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Pillow Talk

Sharil MillerJanuary 14, 2019

Pillow Talk written by: Sharil Miller If you were lying beside me tonight Would you keep me at arm’s length or hold me tight What sweet nothings wou...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

The Last Dance

H.M. GautschNovember 27, 2018

The Last Dance written by: H.M. Gautsch @GautschHM The day we met. Instant attraction, The sparks remain in flight. I can’t deny you. I’m your ty...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

The Tie That Binds Us

Sharil MillerNovember 15, 2018

The Tie That Binds Us written by: Sharil Miller The tie you wore around your neck I wore around mine too Sitting in your chair in the dark wearing it...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

High Wire

Sharil MillerOctober 7, 2018

High Wire written by: Sharil Miller The invisible line between us we tip-toe over and back On a high wire it’s a daring balancing act We taunt and t...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Flame Of The Night

LadyLilyMay 14, 2018

Flame Of The Night written by: LadyLily @AFairymary A pearl candle gulps, flirts, dances the flamenco, flashing winking eye, Its orb, arura crayon...

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 ...