My life is a cage but on the page I'm free.
Stories, poetry, anecdotes, thoughts.
In ‘85 at Flemington, the Melbourne Cup was won By What A Nuisance bursting late to pip them - what a run! A nose to win, a close run thing from Koiro Corrie May.
By Dane Fuller11 months ago in Poets
A news report I read today. Behold an accident - a man was killed. Car crashes often make me sad. Don’t judge because I laughed.
By Dane Fuller2 years ago in Poets
Apparition ominous on the ramparts does foretell. Befouled a rotten Denmark mourns a recent king who fell. Clinging to his grief a prince interrogates his mother.
Their glittered eyes reflect my gold Since long ago, I should have fled. To shield them from what can’t be told. From youth the game did thus unfold
Struggling to write this villanelle. Words imprisoned, door a-lock. A story deep I need to tell. The hand cannot the head compel.
“Take me to your leaders” Well that little spaceman said. I said I’ll show you What our leaders do I’ll take you to our dead.
I was a ‘savage’ man. When British sailed across the sea. To start the Sydney colony. For 50,000 years we’d lived upon the land.
By Dane Fuller3 years ago in Poets
Salmon? she said. Steak. Simon said. Salad? she said. Slaw. Simon said. Silence. Strained silence. Swim? she said. Spa. Simon said.
Talisman tentacles top the tall trees towering, tottering, tenuous. These tree trunks the torsos, tendon twigs tacked; tethered together - this temporal tract.
Slumbered by numbers Awake the whole of the hole Numb and then number
Raindrops on scorched Earth Gently suckles fragile shoots Tickled by the wind.
Kettle boiled on stove. Earthen vessel, blown to cool A nice cup of tea
