There's something about islands
ArtisticThen after that I want to travel the world with a notebook and a pen.
Newest
Red Pill, Blue PillYour hands uncurl to reveal a red pill, a blue pill. Step down the rabbit hole. Tell me your name.Red Pill, Blue Pill
Is it wrong to say that the light is fading? And I wish I had taken the blue pill instead. But where is the life in not following the white rabbit? through to a forest, a garden, the cottage. In a rocking chair I spy, with my little eye, a hunched up figure with a shawl and a cap. Come closer my dear, says the hunched up figure, I walk a little closer, step over creaking floorboards, a rat the size of a cat catches my eye in a doorway. Step a little closer, says the hunched up figure, I put out my hand and touch warm bone and
by ~pepperrose
I am WinterI am winter and I am forever. She crackles down the radio to the listeners at home. At ten past three, I’ll shiver from the ceiling, freeze into an icicle and splinter on the floor. I’ll make my own Siberia, mangled and alone. In one, two, three; you shatter and I melt.I am Winter
In a car, the listener waits. He spies the side of a mountain ivy crawling round his ankles, he is pulled towards the voice. What if he had changed channels? From 109 to 102. It wasn’t always winter are his last thoughts in the chill. Wandering into a palace, the bright light in the distance, his place is set and empty, she turns and she
by ~pepperrose
The WeddingThis tide line, white as a wedding cake chewed her up and spat her out. She asked forgiveness and swam back in, calling for peace, acceptance, a chance. In the beady eyes of a seagull, watch as a glint of silver tumbles from her wrist. She wishes, with true sincerity for marvellous May days and slow easy Sundays. A wave turns and bends over backwards, clutching her down to the bone and stone. Photographs flash in a fix of frenzy as she follows the tunnels down to the cave.The Wedding
‘This is your wedding, you are late’ says the man, handing her seaweed twisted like a noose. Falling from his sleeves are postcards and letters, they
by ~pepperrose
MermaidCheekbones like razors, solace of sailors reaches to the man on the shore. She twists around his neck, whispering in his earMermaid
'Gone are the white stones and cowry shells taste salt in my hair, I wear in seaweed locks
Not once have I eaten with a bowl or spoon, except maybe a crabshell Biting at the claws, tearing at the flesh, trailing my hunger over the rocks.
The tide blunders forward and covers my skin, a flash of scales and fish green tail
I visit the land where once I lived, salt still fresh on my blistered lips.'
by ~pepperrose
Random Favourites
deviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Cornwall, UK
- Favourite movie: Amelie
- Favourite band or musician: Joni Mitchell
- Favourite poet or writer: ee cummings or Margaret Atwood
- Favourite style of art: Quirky
- Shell of choice: conch shell
- Skin of choice: ..my own
- Favourite game: hide and seek
- Tools of the Trade: borrowed biro and a fairly clean surface.
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There is a reason strong move slow | Trade Relic | dA gallery
Well, Peace!
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R.I.P. Michael Jackson
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There is a reason strong move slow | Trade Relic | dA gallery
The world/universe is our oyster.....
i say first stop..... Edinburgh!!
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yeah not liking that missy...you, you
DONKEY....
hmmm.......hurts doesnt it????
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much love xxxxxx
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There is a reason strong move slow | Trade Relic | dA gallery
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