Creative Writing / 02/03/2021 The Inheritance

“Now, there’s just one more thing to clear up.” My eyes wandered to the clock ticking softly on the wall. Outside, a family and dog strolled past the bay window and the sun shone. Inside, it smelled like furniture polish and instant coffee. “Which other thing?” I tried to yawn without opening my mouth, which...

Creative Writing / 02/03/2021 Girl with Gift of Fanta Can makes moves in 24 hour Launderette

2:30 am. I’m waiting. Writing, watching – I’ll come out when I’m all washed up. she comes on over. Lilting gently Moves with intent – Pause cycle. Offers up kindness, ‘you want some?’ Shy smiling. Spin again. Now I’m thinking candid, Drinking kindness, canned – Machinations over and I’m ready / For the Persil soaked,...

Creative Writing / 02/03/2021 Charcoal on Pink (take a girl to life drawing)

I don’t want to write about: The blushing of your cheeks Or the softness of your curves Or the rose tint of your lips, parted, as if to kiss – No, it’s unfeminist. I don’t want to write about: The stillness of your gaze Or the flutter of your breath Or how you press me...

Creative Writing / 02/03/2021 After Mark

Softly calling dreams of stardom Draw me down Can’t get up anymore When I was young I was absent And now there’s no time left, spent The lessons were expensive What do I have to show for it Put on a show for you – i’m a fool Guess I should learn the rules just...

Creative Writing / 02/03/2021 Portrait

A song comes on that perhaps, he used to play And dragging on a meagre joint, rolled expertly as he lies naked in bed He tries to sing once again Cracked and strained he can’t give up, the notes Linger in the smokey air The stale smell of disappointment, despair Leaning over, he ashes into...

Creative Writing / 09/02/2021 Beyond Serenity

“This is the first day of your freedom, kid.” His voice was tender, warm even. The layer of humour softened the blow that this was the end of an era and the start of another. But an icy surface covered the heartfelt, blithe sentiment. The words were familiar. Not in a homely sense, but rather...

Creative Writing

Creative Writing

The Inheritance

“Now, there’s just one more thing to clear up.” My eyes wandered to the clock ticking softly on the wall. Outside, a family and dog strolled past the bay window and the sun shone. Inside, it smelled like furniture polish and instant coffee. “Which other thing?” I tried to yawn without opening my mouth, which…

Creative Writing

After Mark

Softly calling dreams of stardom Draw me down Can’t get up anymore When I was young I was absent And now there’s no time left, spent The lessons were expensive What do I have to show for it Put on a show for you – i’m a fool Guess I should learn the rules just…

Creative Writing

Portrait

A song comes on that perhaps, he used to play And dragging on a meagre joint, rolled expertly as he lies naked in bed He tries to sing once again Cracked and strained he can’t give up, the notes Linger in the smokey air The stale smell of disappointment, despair Leaning over, he ashes into…

Creative Writing

Beyond Serenity

“This is the first day of your freedom, kid.” His voice was tender, warm even. The layer of humour softened the blow that this was the end of an era and the start of another. But an icy surface covered the heartfelt, blithe sentiment. The words were familiar. Not in a homely sense, but rather…

Creative Writing

Mydinova

Weather rattled against the canopy overhead And the branches whimpered and sighed in the wind, Thick, brittle things like the arms and legs of innocent insects. The sun was dipping low, its orange glow piercing And disappearing between glimmers of growth. Dust and dirt and grime and grit All gathering together and becoming stronger And…

Creative Writing

Figuring Out Phyllis

The inescapable reality of a being writer is that the words aren’t always there. Usually when you need them most. To write on demand is a unique skill; to write well on demand is damn-near impossible. Sometimes the stars align but often, at the moment of need, words are strewn about on a break, too…

Creative Writing

Between Christmas and the New Year

(CW: Mentions of death) the please-come-home-for-christmas radio, the fairytale-of-new-york radio, the ave-maria radio     is a time machine is a corpse is just  static in the air like damp pine needles and frost. a stag is not a god. a god is not an animal  staggering away from a festive-music-radio-corpse. a stag is a deer…


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The University of East Anglia’s official student newspaper. Concrete is in print and online.

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