Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: From the Last Frontier

I rode out into a country,
One that hides itself from
The greyest city in the world,
At ninety miles an hour
Down the wrong side of the track –
No need for traffic laws when
Your car is the only one.

As the brick-red waste
Dotted with blasted shrubs
Gives way to the grasslands,
The horses come out
Play-fighting like a pack of dogs,
And cover in a single hour
The distance that took me
Five days of hard riding
To the pulse of the radio.

Beneath the bare trees
The old man slit a sheep’s throat
And tamed a maddened horse,
And watched me struggle with a tent;
He had a drunkard’s grin.

Angered at first
Yet he was so reasonable;
For I am the only one
Intruding on this land,
A figure of fun,
A devil come to gape at
The people who hide in
A sky so clear and liquid
It buries all your miles.
Though the ghosts of red stars
Still shine through the smog,
Their life goes on forever.

The clouds and the sky
Follow each other
In an endless game of chase,
The sun and moon in their battle
To rule the fire and the frost,
Lightning strikes in the distance
But never gives me a second’s look.
The next day we moved on,
Waiting for the Russian van,
Going back to where I started.


About Author



January 2021
Latest Comments
  • Avatar
    Favourite song covers
    Ma’am, this is a Wendy’s
  • Avatar Scott B
    Favourite song covers
    Is this author 14 years old with absolutely zero knowledge on music? Has to be. Two out of three songs are irrelevant. Both by shitty bands. Who paid for this?…
  • Avatar theizzin
    Should we mourn GCSE poetry?
    Wonderful article! Very insightful and brilliantly communicated. I wasn't aware of this issue before, but this article has really brought it to light for me. Thank you very much!
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