Andrew John > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

They’ve hauled me into the parlour, secure in terracotta packed with soil, to sit awhile before my ritual humiliation. Soon I will be baubled..

A friend who died.

(sonnet, written for a friend who lost another daughter)

A phone is a companion

There is a site just here, yes, here. Somewhere. I hover, dangle, hang about, just here. You can hold a mouse, press it just here, o..

Iambic pentameter

Personal poem