Writing portfolio
By aimz999
Writing so far...
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- 554 reads
Jess
The yellow car crawled along in front of them. It was acceptable to go at this speed when the tractor had been going ten miles an hour but it had turned off a while back.
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- 1 comment
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- 480 reads
Alderbrook
Face twisted in tight knots, acid fizzing like Pop Rocks in his throat. He spat, blood and green hammered the cold grey slabs. Black flints sparkled, hands like windmills, a chaos of limbs.
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- 322 reads
At the slope
Brown eyes, so loud over the wind; voice so quiet. He moved in silence. Poplars waved, screaming with joy. I strained to hear. He paused, blackberry bruised wood. A game.
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- 1 comment
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- 494 reads
Awake
Cracked maps knitted with moss, the bark warm under tips.
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- 358 reads
Blind Digger
Heavy earth on my shoulders, like the tide. A soft cave was my home, like Play Dough. My hands were broad and curved, like a shovel. I created a network of tunnels, like veins.
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- 401 reads
Combine
Poem from childhood on the farm
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- 6 comments
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- 1083 reads
Daniel
I pushed my way through the thicket of people at the bar and stumbled over a hidden step.
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- 359 reads
Running
An old Oak branch jumped against my shin as I thundered down the smuggler's path. Low hanging holly leaves clawed at my face; cold amber swallowed my faded black trainers.
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- 370 reads
Will
Acid burned in her mouth. She swallowed hard; wishing the taste away. She clenched and unclenched her fists behind his back. His strong broad shoulders clad with a faded black t shirt.
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- 2 comments
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- 477 reads
Sam
Through the eyes of a student on a gap year, romance
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- 560 reads
Hard Life
The hard life of a young adult
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- 631 reads
motty
Snow tiger under the gunera, his favourite place at the bottom of the garden. Green eyes wide and still, his body pressed flat to the thick grass. Mum’s favourite bird,
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- 1 comment
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- 449 reads
The Six Shooter
Sunlight poured into the cave, teasing the stream that stumbled over rocks. Curved trees scowled, their skin like a map, the ivy like roads. Six old drains lined the wall,
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- 461 reads
The Pig Meadow
Marguerite Daises held tight, amongst the ivy and creepers. Wet, wood stung our noses. Cindered dolls, eyes blackened, broken faces aged with soot. Our patchwork quilt, chewed at the edge.
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- 388 reads
Seaford Beach
Broken shells crunched under my callous feet skin worn, an old tyre. The sand swelled, greedy for each step swallowing, a reptile. The sea drowned the foot holes the foaming scum welded.
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- 2 comments
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- 592 reads
Oak Leaves
Crinkled skin made dents in my palm as I clambered higher. The golden beech jeered I lost my grip, a twig snapped beneath my red welly, wood burnt my leathery hands.
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- 320 reads
The Cottage Field
A puddle mistaken for a pond, orange feet splashing, black beads watching. Amber set amongst branches, dark fingers slack. The new fields trembled in the ashen haze,
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- 331 reads
Escaping Nothing
“You stopping another night?” Damien grunted from the fridge. Sam yawned, delicately, as she mulled over her options.
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- 381 reads
Naked
For once, I’d woken up with a grin on my face. I actually felt like pulling the curtains open like one of those breakfast adverts but thought better of it when I caught sight of my hair.
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- 336 reads
Dr Otswold
“What can you tell me about this dream?” Dr Otswold enquired; carefully slicing the end of his cigar before taking it between his teeth and striking a match.
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- 1 comment
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- 504 reads
Walking
A stiff upper lip softened by drizzle. A hardy frown melted with wellies. A ruddy complexion a welcome replacement. Clouds of fresh air the perfect cleanser. The Tamworth pigs
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- 299 reads
Hate
Red should be blood, green should be jealousy. But colours cannot spell out, how much I hate you. Take no more and take no less because I have nothing left. I want to turn
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- 1 comment
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- 447 reads
Night Driving
Pupils swallowing the shadows, skin washed away. Eyes sore in the cloudy moonlight, another slow coach, another five miles. A rumble of pollution,...
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- 2 comments
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- 497 reads
18:45
I stepped back for the sound of metal on metal, the rush of air and red paint. The 18:45 was two minutes behind schedule. I had savoured those...
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- 315 reads
Could We Be Friends
When a relationship suddenly stops – isn’t your world meant to fall apart? I was full of passion, lust and future designs. How am I happier now? It...
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- 1 comment
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- 435 reads