Creative Writing / 13/04/2021 Methods of Running in the Race to the Grave

I hear them now as I heard them before, Like winter’s raindrops, whistling past my ears These hymns pour through my spirit And they fall, through dense, damp air Brittle and bitter, once again, once more, Their flavour, warm and strange, Like cinnamon upon my tongue I was young When I heard them first, Every...

Creative Writing / 13/04/2021 A Safe Space

Therapy always began with a silence, the kind of dreadful silence that was desperate to speak. They asked him how he felt. He panicked. He always panicked when they asked him anything to do with feelings. The corners of his lips curled towards the broken fan above, the fan that turned slowly in the occasional...

Creative Writing / 23/03/2021 Beneath Silence

Silence is the cruelest weapon  You teach her to swallow back tears  Master the art of snide and contempt  Fight fire with fire, burn for burn.  Tell me, how long will it take to unlearn  All the hate she festers within, all the hurt?  With luck, she’ll dance atop broken glass  Scald the coffin; bury...

Creative Writing / 23/03/2021 Song

Come to this spectacle of pleasure And hear the circus shrieks, Its all pretend Because what you think means more to me Than all the satiny satisfaction of caresses and deep pleasure You never ask and i never say Although I am the reddest fiercest colour In a light leeched day A voice calling ripples...

Creative Writing / 23/03/2021 A Month in the Country

Tuesday 24th March They announced it last night. We have to shut ourselves into our own homes and not see anybody. I can go for a walk for an hour a day, I can go to buy food, I can go to the Doctor’s. Shops and schools are closed, buses and trains are cancelled. I...

Creative Writing / 23/03/2021 Sweetness

who knows what the future brings? Maybe i’ll buy a plant, maybe i’ll pack it all in Memories, like drawings in steamed up glass Linger And I wonder if my hopes for us Will one day also be ghosts Images drawn in water Fading You walked up to me with gold and flowers in your...

Creative Writing

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


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


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…

Creative Writing


Imagine sipping a piña colada on a beach in Barbados. Where a wind kisses your cheeks, whispering through the language of the palm trees. Your lips purse as you sip its imaginary juices. It feels tangy. Fresh. Everything this moment lacked. Now, a murky cloud begins to form in the shape of a camel, its…

Creative Writing

Variations XI & XII

As will be seen, the fog Has faded. The high street Shunned it, chased It from its lofty perch High above the tarts in Cages who jeer below. You really aren’t understanding me. As your eyes accustom to The changing times, internet Sleuths will stalk you: the weakest Spot in the ordinary array of forces….

Creative Writing

Storm Clouds

The darkness Before the coming rain Covers the room, and Enlarges the shadows. Your hatred of me Takes me under its dark wings: A cocoon, a shelter that Hides and chides, slowly becoming My view of myself. When I left, You told me that the rain was coming, And I didn’t believe you when You…

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April 2021
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The University of East Anglia’s official student newspaper. Concrete is in print and online.

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