oblivion Archives - Spillwords

Blankets

Ricky HawthorneApril 7, 2020

Blankets written by: Ricky Hawthorne @searsjames Love has left these pitiless threads, these pillow-less Discarded piles, slumped into corners, coma...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry1 min read

All Those Blurry Faces

George Gad EconomouApril 7, 2020

All Those Blurry Faces written by: George Gad Economou @GeorgeGad17 I still recall, faintly, all the barflies with whom I drank; we never got al...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

The Dilemma of an African Child

Eduardo De BoscoMarch 28, 2020

The Dilemma of an African Child written by: Eduardo de Bosco - You want to know me ? I am kissed by poverty at birth Our golden sun produces gol...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Silence!

Adriana MorganFebruary 29, 2020

Silence! written by: Adriana Morgan @Adriana39863076 Silence! I said. But she kept talking about her problems, her hopes... I couldn't care less f...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Frozen

Roger TurnerJanuary 14, 2020

Frozen written by: Roger Turner @titansdad It was a night like this Back in old T. O. When a woman froze to death In the cold and frigid snow I p...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry1 min read

The Thing About Oil Spills II

Godfrey HolyJanuary 1, 2020

The Thing About Oil Spills II written by: Godfrey Holy My neck no longer bears your cinderblocks I sit on them at the bottom of your forlorn lake ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

I Just Want To Go Home

Kara JackmanNovember 5, 2019

I Just Want To Go Home written by: Kara Jackman @KaraJ1979 Front clasp Metal on metal Zipped fly Green corduroys Blue Sweater I’m wearing cl...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Fade

L.M.GiannoneNovember 1, 2019

Fade written by: L.M. Giannone @LISAGNO What light was left has faded altogether ushering in a darkness so encompassing a nothingness so unbearable...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Captive

Pranjal SrivastavaOctober 1, 2019

Captive written by: Pranjal Srivastava My existence has become delusional That’s not me, walking and laughing with you, that’s just flesh and bones...

EnglishPoetry2 min read

Early Morning

Cendrine MarrouatAugust 12, 2019

Early Morning written by: Cendrine Marrouat @cendrinemedia A damaged cover challenges oblivion; mom’s voice fills the room....

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

The Homeless Guy

Robin McNamaraFebruary 27, 2019

The Homeless Guy written by: Robin McNamara @robbiemac72 The shutters pulled down he made his bed cardboard first then the sleeping bag Saturday ...

EnglishPoetry2 min read

Standing Stones

Ricky HawthorneJuly 14, 2018

Standing Stones written by: Ricky Hawthorne @searsjames Granite faced, ingrained and frozen; Emotionally padlocked; Unable to intervene, object, O...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry0 min read

Falling

IngelaJuly 11, 2016

FALLING written by: Ingela(saja) @ingelasaja Like moving under water As if thinking is no more A spin that is unwanted and then I hit the floor Obl...

English0 min read

No more articles

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 ...