spirit Archives - Spillwords

Sometimes The River Runs To Me

David Barry TempleMay 4, 2020

Sometimes The River Runs To Me written by: David Barry Temple Sometimes the river runs to me When I am tired of peddling upstream. There is a place ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

The Indigenous Stranger

Mounia MnouerApril 21, 2020

The Indigenous Stranger written by: Mounia Mnouer When you want to breathe, but can’t find your breath When you want to smile, but can’t find your mu...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

A Woman

Aisha Saidi KinguFebruary 28, 2020

A Woman written by: Aisha Saidi Kingu @KinguAisha From the meaning of her name, From the beauty of her look, From the strength of her voice, A g...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Glumstruck

Jason O'TooleFebruary 7, 2020

Glumstruck written by: Jason O'Toole First Spirit: In search of the saddest sound, I entered the Old Soldier’s Home down by the river’s bend. A re...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Ode to Poe

Kara JackmanJanuary 15, 2020

Ode to Poe written by: Kara Jackman @KaraJ1979 O, but for her eyes Bright as the celestial skies. And ah! The skin of her fair face As soft to t...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Where Have The Birds Gone?

Fotoula ReynoldsJanuary 7, 2020

Where Have The Birds Gone? written by: Fotoula Reynolds It’s raining embers And our beautiful Island-home cries A blackened soul Unfair intensity ...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Passengers On A Train

John BaverstockDecember 31, 2019

Passengers On A Train written by: JOHN BAVERSTOCK We are all passengers, Travelling on the train, A train that takes us, Through the journey of lif...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Christmas

BogpanDecember 24, 2019

Christmas written by: Bogpan @panbog2 The night is short like a breath and long like a cry – a woman who hard is giving birth of a day. A flame, ...

ChristmasEnglishPoetry0 min read

The Spirit of Christmas

Shelly WilsonDecember 20, 2019

The Spirit of Christmas written by: Shelly Wilson @ShellyWilsonDQK A warmth in my heart arises a notch As Christmas is near and winter does knock W...

12 Days of ChristmasChristmasEnglishFeatured PostPoetry1 min read

Santa’s Watchin…

Hema RaviDecember 17, 2019

Santa's Watchin... written by: Hema Ravi 'Santa's watchin'!' says Mum to thirty-month old toddler 'You must share!' The spirit of Christmas ingra...

ChristmasEnglishPoetry0 min read

The Spirit of Giving

Dawn DeBraalDecember 17, 2019

The Spirit of Giving written by: Dawn DeBraal The manger scene in front of the First Methodist Church was a beautiful sight. Life-sized statues and ...

ChristmasEnglishLiterature3 min read

Abandonment

EugeniaNovember 28, 2019

Abandonment written by: Franci Eugenia Hoffman @riccikeeper leaves fall to and fro with spirited adventure and nowhere to go...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Stumbling

Fotoula ReynoldsNovember 7, 2019

Stumbling written by: Fotoula Reynolds After the love-storm Passion beyond delirium Becomes a ruthless falsity And lust without urgency has The so...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Reluctant Spirit

Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay)November 2, 2019

Saying Goodbye Part XIII Reluctant Spirit written by: Doug Stanfield (Hemmingplay) @hemmingplay A woman I know, a believer, told me she saw ang...

Doug StanfieldEnglishFeatured PostPoetrySaying Goodbye3 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 ...