finale Archives - Spillwords

Epilogue

Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay)May 2, 2020

Saying Goodbye Part XX Epilogue: It Was the Sound I Could Not Forget written by: Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay) @hemmingplay This final poem in th...

Doug StanfieldEnglishFeatured PostPoetrySaying Goodbye4 min read

My Closure Song

R William StandishFebruary 21, 2020

My Closure Song written by: R William Standish Take a look at where you stand, take a look at the life at hand, take a look at how it began, how is mu...

EnglishPoetry2 min read

If I Had A Field

Lee DunnJanuary 23, 2020

If I Had A Field written by: Lee Dunn @66human If I had a field, I would not ask for much. Just so by so by so… Fences, side on each, but ...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry1 min read

Wave To Tomorrow

R William StandishJanuary 4, 2020

Wave To Tomorrow written by: R William Standish join the ranks of those moved on before you it’s your turn now the table set for us all a new future...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry1 min read

Jon Snow And Duty As The Death Of Love

Ryan MoranMay 22, 2019

Jon Snow And Duty As The Death Of Love written by: Ryan Moran In the Game of Thrones, there is no place for a person like Jon Snow. Not lowborn enou...

ArticleEnglish7 min read

SHELF LIFE

Dilip MohapatraMay 13, 2019

SHELF LIFE written by: Dilip Mohapatra @dilipmo Immortality is just a concept an attempt to fool yourself about your invincibility at best ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

NEVER MIND

Dilip MohapatraApril 20, 2019

NEVER MIND written by: Dilip Mohapatra @dilipmo You call her up few times and she doesn't take your call you think she may be busy and will...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Symmetry

Kenneth Vincent WalkerApril 11, 2019

Symmetry written by: Kenneth Vincent Walker Rows and rows of surnamed stones In the cemetery symmetry of collective bones. Some need a place to come...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry0 min read

COMPLAINERS IN TIN CANS

Norberto Franco CisnerosApril 9, 2019

COMPLAINERS IN TIN CANS written by: Norberto Franco Cisneros The discontent that dying brings should not be vilified. It is not a bad thing to be a...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Sunday Best

Stanley WilkinFebruary 20, 2019

Sunday Best written by: Stanley Wilkin @catalhuyuk Her loneliness became her like a winter coat, drab but comforting, smothering her form as her so...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Valentines Day 1918

Steve GreenFebruary 14, 2019

Valentines Day 1918 written by: Steve Green @Word_Massager We greet the dawn from our bed of mud in a nameless place that we must defend Blan...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Death

Donna AfricaDecember 5, 2018

Death written by: Donna Africa @DonnaAfrica The final curtain call destined finality an end of life that awaits us all! Departure off this plane ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Harvest Of Gold

LadyLilyNovember 27, 2018

Harvest of Gold written by: LadyLily @AFairymary Birthed from an acorn, eyes open, love-lit gold, chimes its silent bell. Sulphur flames levitate…...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

A Stopping Place

R.E HengstermanNovember 22, 2018

A Stopping Place written by: R.E Hengsterman @robhengsterman The pre-arrival of my arrival is the loss of a mucous plug and amniotic fluid spl...

EnglishFeatured PostLiterature7 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 ...