Nick.A

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryDear Stephen Ewan27 years 4 months ago
StoryClueless Nick.A011 years 5 months ago
StoryChislehurst Nick.A211 years 5 months ago
StoryBy a Bridge in Winter Nick.A411 years 5 months ago
StoryBeached Nick.A111 years 5 months ago
StoryBabbling Screams Nick.A311 years 5 months ago
CollectionPoems 08 - 09 Nick.A011 years 5 months ago
StoryThe Third Law of Thermodynamics Nick.A011 years 6 months ago
StoryNovember Nick.A011 years 6 months ago
StoryShadows Nick.A511 years 6 months ago
StoryImperial War Museum Nick.A011 years 6 months ago
StoryDruids Nick.A011 years 6 months ago
StoryGenesis 0:0 Antonia_Soazig912 years 10 months ago
Storythe affair shoe1314 years 5 months ago
Storythe tree shoe214 years 5 months ago
Storyheartbreak shoe414 years 5 months ago
StoryAtleast they died fighting andrew-evans114 years 11 months ago
StorySummer's End Nick.A215 years 1 month ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A315 years 1 month ago
StoryPlease, take these thoughts Nick.A315 years 1 month ago
StoryLove me Beeme1815 years 1 month ago
StoryThe onset of winter Nick.A315 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Witch kheldar315 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Certainty Principle Nick.A315 years 1 month ago
StorySchrödinger’s Cat steve-r615 years 1 month ago

My collections

My stories

Summer's End

The trees turn early in the late summer sun, Yellow and gold against a soft cerulean sky, The sun goddess bursting through the leaves Birch bark shining white at her touch.

Nearly human (again)

Kernel Panic... Deactivate reception sensors. Insulate the core. Switch off external Stimuli. Protect lockdown centres. Initiate detection scan. Wipe infected sectors. Reapportion memory.

Druids

Deep in the Passages in the rock An unwritten history is lost in the dark. Timeless, wordless, it is written in each vanished block And every miner’s mark. Reason whitewashed like the lime,

Chislehurst

Chalk white, pitch black, And silent as the grave. Druids, Romans, Saxons Echo through the rock, Like flint sparks in the tinderbox; Here and gone, only ghosts remain.

Please, take these thoughts

Lured by the need to lose the daily grind, Amidst the greens and browns that are easy on the eye And gentle on the soul. I seek out Wilder places, where solitude can roam.

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