maggyvaneijk

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryYou Can't Pin Me Down YaseminB57 years 3 months ago
StoryOf a Saturday Silver Spun Sand237 years 3 months ago
StoryA QUICK POEM TO JIMI HENDRIX skinner_jennifer207 years 4 months ago
StoryI Can't Help Wishing Christopher fatboy74817 years 4 months ago
StoryNothing Ever Really Happens fatboy74327 years 4 months ago
StoryWinding in the River Nolan107 years 7 months ago
StoryBeautiful Fish Kilb5067 years 9 months ago
Storytwentysixteen maggyvaneijk67 years 11 months ago
StoryBye - My dear friend pkroutray57 years 11 months ago
StorySID AND NANCY YaseminB67 years 11 months ago
StoryForgotten Copse Deliberately Ev...167 years 11 months ago
StoryTwo Point Four alexwritings28 years 3 days ago
Storytrifecta maggyvaneijk178 years 1 month ago
StoryCC 63: The Photos of the Future sean mcnulty58 years 3 months ago
StoryDown The Street hilary west88 years 5 months ago
StoryAtomic London Zuku38 years 6 months ago
StoryKnickers winking_tiger48 years 6 months ago
StoryDevil gate drive denni148 years 6 months ago
StoryAnd the Beat Goes On (IP) Overthetop1408 years 8 months ago
StoryMy Poems Overthetop1208 years 8 months ago
StoryLoaded Words blick7748 years 8 months ago
StoryReykjavik 29/3/16 Philip Sidney118 years 9 months ago
StoryBabbacombe Fair Ewan18 years 9 months ago
StoryMy Four Aunts' Voices Jane Hyphen98 years 10 months ago
StoryRetrospective Drawings maggyvaneijk158 years 10 months ago

My stories

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Blue

I’m sliding backwards into memory like a skydive in reverse into the blue of my mother’s robes a mosque’s dome powdered sulfur the spray of light...
3 likes
Gold cherry

"Hi"

Image: 
Tell me that you haven’t felt like this for years way-out high on red wine. Tell me about 2005 and the cycle of time, how you never would have...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Things you’d only tell your mother in a foreign language

It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night. You’re pulling hard on my shoulder blades like you’re trying to open me up. Tiny bones of fear block my throat...
Gold cherry

Driving to Whitstable with my father

When people look into our car, they see me a hitchhiker of twenty-three passenger seat, hands on knees eyes fixed on a hole in my jeans. I am too...
Poem of the week

The wanting

The wanting is what I fear the most
 the wanting.

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