tasteslikepressedflowers.wordpress.com
In my absence | Tastes Like Pressed Flowers
https://tasteslikepressedflowers.wordpress.com/2016/01/14/in-my-absence
Fragment of an Evening Walk. On In my absence. Oh, you know on Bits from last night. Fragment of an Evening Walk. On In my absence. Oh, you know on Bits from last night. Tastes Like Pressed Flowers. Since I last was here, one of my pieces was picked up by Eclectica Magazine. It appeared in issue 19 volume 4. And I am grateful for my inclusion. I am currently waiting to hear back on a manuscript in progress from a few places as well. It has been a struggle to find time for writing, still I read. You are c...
tasteslikepressedflowers.wordpress.com
Jeremiah 18:4 | Tastes Like Pressed Flowers
https://tasteslikepressedflowers.wordpress.com/2016/08/12/jeremiah-184
Fragment of an Evening Walk. On In my absence. Oh, you know on Bits from last night. Fragment of an Evening Walk. On In my absence. Oh, you know on Bits from last night. Tastes Like Pressed Flowers. There was a man glowing. Like a house upon the hill. We took pictures of him only. When he bled, clenched hands raised. Like a house upon the hill;. We spoke his name. When he bled, clenched hands raised. The lights all on until they weren’t. We spoke his name,. 8220;you are the most important.”.
tasteslikepressedflowers.wordpress.com
September | 2015 | Tastes Like Pressed Flowers
https://tasteslikepressedflowers.wordpress.com/2015/09
Fragment of an Evening Walk. On In my absence. Oh, you know on Bits from last night. Fragment of an Evening Walk. On In my absence. Oh, you know on Bits from last night. Tastes Like Pressed Flowers. September 28, 2015. Fragment of an Evening Walk. You were Jay Gatsby. In the lightning field. Our hands not quite touching. Waiting to be scarred too. And your name ran. September 14, 2015. Blog at WordPress.com.
threegoodwords.wordpress.com
Iris Moore, Part VI | three good words
https://threegoodwords.wordpress.com/2016/08/15/iris-moore-part-vi
8230;actually, why not? Iris Moore, Part VI. Mrs Davidson was very curious as to why such a young woman was traveling alone, unless of course, silly me, she was going to meet her husband, which made Mrs. Davidson smile widely and ask innumerable questions about Mr. O’Brian. Someone called behind her right then. Iris turned and saw an elderly man wearing a blue railway suit come towards her, the stationmaster who had just whistled the train out of the station. His whiskers were smoky grey and his ...I’ Ir...
threegoodwords.wordpress.com
Iris Moore | three good words
https://threegoodwords.wordpress.com/2016/06/20/iris-moore
8230;actually, why not? Hello, you lovely people. I know I’ve been neglecting this space rather cruelly, but I finally,. Found the time to experiment again. The following is an attempt – really, just that – at historical fiction. I have no idea where it’s going, so bear with me. This is the first part, there is more to come, and I hope it’s at least mildly entertaining. Merci for reading! Pacific Northwest, 1885. Yet it was all to no avail. On a Sunday morning in the spring of the third year after th...
threegoodwords.wordpress.com
that one thing | three good words
https://threegoodwords.wordpress.com/that-one-thing-2
8230;actually, why not? What the hell is radical gardening? Maybe the Roses got organized and took over, firebombed the Freesias and kidnapped the Daisies, made sinister videos of them tied to a gardening hose and sent it all to Gardening Magazine, demanding ten gallons of Nutrition 8 Fertilizer by the next full moon otherwise they’ll drown the Daisies in saltwater and that’ll just be the beginning. If they don’t follow the demands the Petunia’s are next. Signed, *The New Red Roses*. You are commenting u...
threegoodwords.wordpress.com
threegoodwords | three good words | …actually, why not?
https://threegoodwords.wordpress.com/threegoodwords
8230;actually, why not? Hello, all you lovely people. I don’t know how many of you remember this short story, but I thought I’d rewrite it again, see what I can do with it. I’m in a bit of a revising mood. Oh, and here’s the original. 8211; actually, a first draft – if you’d like to compare :). T was ridiculous where they met again. Honey, what do you say? A little Beluga or would Salmon be enough? Wait, they sell Beluga here? Look at the world now, avocados everywhere. Ellen picked out a Belgian blue.
threegoodwords.wordpress.com
here be dragons | three good words
https://threegoodwords.wordpress.com/that-one-thing
8230;actually, why not? The Middle Ages. Imagined. Envisioned. And at times, enjoyed. A tired knight (got lost twice) in scorched armour (that blasted dragon) clattering up an ACME ladder (family heirloom), scrub, pail, soap and comb in hand, since you never know when the lady last got out of that tower. Bloody bugger bloody buggery bugger ’. Bugger buggery bugger ’. No swearing on the premises! Ll swear as much as I bloody well please thank you very much! Hands, sir,. Condescendingly. ‘It’s even. If you...
threegoodwords.wordpress.com
sky to ceiling | three good words
https://threegoodwords.wordpress.com/2016/05/08/sky-to-ceiling
8230;actually, why not? Only there’s no. When harshly set against. May be, maybe. That could be anything. Forks in the road. Greying the sky to ceiling. Or so it is written. Like a golden summer’s day. And yet it’s in the earliest hour. When you see the light. In its most crystalline shades. Perseverance. keeping on. Never mind scraped knuckles. Chapped lips and bleeding knees. 8216;mercy, please! But there is that peak. All sky, no ceiling. And so: keep on. One more step, and another. And you can rest.