Fog Archives - Spillwords

The Gargoyle Yawns

Judge BurdonMay 9, 2020

The Gargoyle Yawns written by: Judge Burdon The fogwalker searches for clues in the moist darkness of early morning, the mist feels its way through ...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Forgetting

Richard RebelApril 28, 2020

Forgetting written by: Richard Rebel At the corner Nicholas got off the 452, ducking over the road and behind the bus as it slugged away with a low ...

EnglishLiterature4 min read

We Walk Alone

LucyApril 21, 2020

We Walk Alone written by: Lucy Blue fog, derived from the morning, Dancing alone in an orchard with the breeze, In a world torn with a hunt—a slow d...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

There, She Is…

Hema RaviApril 6, 2020

There, She Is... written by: Hema Ravi 'Sky has eaten the moon' said my toddler; we were out shopping on chilly autumn eve; 'It's playing hid...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Through The Darkness

Sue Marie St. LeeMarch 8, 2020

Through The Darkness written by: Sue Marie St. Lee The road looked like spilled ink, black and wet, reflecting a lone streetlight in the far-off dis...

EnglishLiterature5 min read

The Mist

Brad OsborneDecember 2, 2019

The Mist written by: Brad Osborne Is it cloud that falls so gently When mountain top is kissed Or does it rise from the valley This cold and haunti...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

The Sapling

Steve ColoriNovember 20, 2019

The Sapling written by: Steve Colori The neutral tans and browns of the unit were becoming etched in my mind as I waited for discharge. Week after w...

EnglishLiterature6 min read

Lonely Loneliness

Irena Ewa IdzikowskaNovember 10, 2019

Lonely Loneliness written by: Irena Ewa Idzikowska translated by: Artur Komoter pure white foggy mist lonely loneliness imbrues with bare feet...

EnglishInternationalPoetryPolish1 min read

Night, City

DahNovember 6, 2019

Night, City written by: Dah @dahlusion An imposing fog comes with its damp body flapping like wet skirts on balcony railings. Then surveillance b...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Mischief on Hallow’s Eve

ReBecca DeFazioOctober 31, 2019

Mischief on Hallow's Eve written by: ReBecca DeFazio @MisplacedPetals We’re not afraid of the dark, of ghosts or goblins. We run through the w...

EnglishHalloweenPoetry0 min read

The Merman’s Rhyme

Iulia HalatzOctober 10, 2019

The Merman's Rhyme written by: Iulia Halatz He has no love but music and cold whispering trees that were in bloom under the last dim moon. He has...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

ECHO

Kevin D ParishSeptember 26, 2019

ECHO written by: Kevin D Parish I followed the echo Not knowing its source. Was it pain or desire Just running its course? Laughing at the memorie...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry0 min read

GAUGES

G.R. MelvinSeptember 12, 2019

GAUGES written by: G.R. MELVIN “Life is short, and Art long; the crisis fleeting; experience perilous, and decision difficult.” - Hippocrates “In th...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Forgotten

Jack Wolfe FrostJune 22, 2019

Forgotten written by: Jack Wolfe Frost @JackWolfeWriter Fog, It rules my mind, erasing my thought, Slowing removing traces, of things I have been ta...

EnglishPoetry1 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 ...