work Archives - Spillwords

Art, Work or Family

Ferris E JonesMay 4, 2020

Art, Work or Family written by: Ferris E Jones The heaviness can't be approached. Slowly, its multitudes of victims Bury themselves in the hours was...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Double Trouble

Christopher S. BellApril 15, 2020

Double Trouble written by: Christopher S. Bell @CScottBell Gerry watched foam drip from his glass to the bartop at The Walnut. He’d lost count i...

EnglishLiterature11 min read

El Destino

Jose A GomezMarch 29, 2020

El Destino written by: José A Gómez Se me esta escapando el deseo de luchar Fofo me estoy sintiendo sin ninguna voluntad Y psicológicamente, vencido...

Jose A GomezPoetrySpanish1 min read

Simply The Best

Eamon O'LearyMarch 19, 2020

Simply The Best written by: Eamon O'Leary The trial had tongues wagging and now a guilty verdict. The middle-aged, high profile businessman charged ...

EnglishFeatured PostLiterature10 min read

When Alarm Clocks Stop Failing

Arimaya RyanMarch 11, 2020

When Alarm Clocks Stop Failing written by: Arimaya Ryan My day will fill out into eons My body slows To meet the spirit, No faster than A speedi...

EnglishPoetry2 min read

In Pursuit of Creative Happiness

Asad MianMarch 8, 2020

In pursuit of creative happiness and linking it to the modern day workplace written by: Asad Mian @amian74 Preamble: Is happiness important and...

ArticleEnglish7 min read

FOR ALEC W JAMES COAL MINER WITH THE ANGELS

GrendadJanuary 19, 2020

FOR ALEC W JAMES COAL MINER WITH THE ANGELS written by: Grendad Bowed down and coughing in his plastic coat, Smiling still into his final days As i...

EnglishFeatured PostPoetry3 min read

Lines

Becca LotusJanuary 1, 2020

Lines written by: Becca Lotus @BeccaLotus Reading behind the lines today. I'll do the work. I'll read it all. Is there a message behind the lines?...

EnglishPoetry0 min read

Squint

Elizabeth GarciaDecember 22, 2019

Squint written by: Elizabeth Garcia I think, perhaps, there is something inherently magical, maybe almost unreal sometimes, about people during the ...

ArticleChristmasEnglish13 min read

Making Memories

Dan LeichtNovember 9, 2019

Making Memories written by: Dan Leicht @Deeliopunk For all the money we put into our homes the best memories are always the adventures we take out...

EnglishPoetry1 min read

Misplaced a Chicken

Robyn MacKinnonSeptember 1, 2019

Misplaced a Chicken written by: Robyn MacKinnon @art_rat an overtime shift It is Canada Day eve misplaced a chicken ...

EnglishPoetryRobyn Finds PoetryRobyn MacKinnon0 min read

Another Bus Ride for Sunny

Carl ParsonsAugust 25, 2019

Another Bus Ride for Sunny written by: Carl Parsons I I know I’m not supposed to, but I do it anyway. She’s too perty to refuse. I mean, no fare—...

EnglishLiterature8 min read

Eleanor and The Body Stretcher

Phyllis SouzaAugust 4, 2019

Eleanor and The Body Stretcher written by: Phyllis Souza The year was 1953. After school on Thursdays and Fridays and all day on Saturdays, Elean...

EnglishLiterature5 min read

Juliet’s Song

Mehreen AhmedJuly 31, 2019

Juliet's Song written by: Mehreen Ahmed @MehreenAhmed2 Juliet worked in a cafe up the road. Her pretty smile was something to see first thing in th...

EnglishLiterature7 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 ...