15 months after I put pen to ink and at last the new book, ‘The Outrageous Miss April Fool’ is born. On the way it didn’t help that Rosie the gypsy dog ‘bitch’…sometimes worthy of that non-canine definition…decided to ‘bark’ many a long hour. Oh, how I wish I could speak the ‘bark’ language. I’d … More THE OUTRAGEOUS MISS APRIL FOOL
The Old Fool sits on his comfy chair staring fixedly at the blue painted wall…the only wall in the house devoid of immodest art…with his eyes wide open, attired in just a manmade coal-black dressing gown that trails all the way down to his frozen feet. During his spell without an hourglass, wearing the dressing … More THE BLUE WALL
When my erudite doctor and my scrumptious Shirley both insist I should take a break from compulsive computers, endurance saunters and over thinking, I have to listen. Instead of routine I have more pills to swallow than there are pebbles on the harbour beach. So close to finishing my new tome entitled, ‘The Outrageous Miss … More STRANGE TIMES
My new book: ‘The Blue-Eyed Cat’ has finally been freed from her solitary confinement within the lonely prison cell that is my dark and empty skull. At last at liberty, the world is now her oyster…although all indications are that her ideal preference would be pride of place upon the shelf of a grand bookcase … More THE BLUE-EYED CAT
Photograph by Natalie Shau ‘We are our choices’ – Jean-Paul Sartre Hellish hard to determine what, if any, section of a new book one should impart in an attempt to expose it’s blanket disposition when I am naught but a fanciful old fool and my co-author is currently glued to her weeding and seeding only … More AN AUDIENCE WITH THE EMPRESS
Reveil, Boulevard de Clichy – Anders Zorn, 1899 Drunk on Pernod, lost to opium and thoroughly fatigued, gifting smoke rings to ungrateful stars, contemplating an interlude with an immodest, exiled Geisha touting for business somewhere along the Boulevard de Clichy, she found me; saved me. Slapped my wrists, gave me the evil eye, even had … More THE ENGLISHMAN
how gentle was Time back when back when there were no summer rains and new-found love was both innocent and wild back when Time had yet to be wholly realized had yet to aggrieve, to exist before the epoch of open awakening Time, a mock-ruin folly gracing a veiled skyscape, emptiness reigned absolute then came … More SLAVES TO TIME
a spotty little urchin carrying a burst previously ‘best-ever’ football making his way home a fish and chip supper perhaps? an impressive ruby red scab on his elbow to pick at managing not to walk upon bad luck cracks in paving stones perked him up a little better still a stroke of amazing luck in … More A REDUNDANT PIECE OF JUNK
Since Dawn of Time’s first chilly mists were devoured by a greedy, rampant Orange, I have been collecting the apt recollections of those poor wretched souls about to lose their minds to the unforgiving void. By preserving such memories, I ensure that upon departure at least a small snippet of the mort being is not … More THE COLLECTOR OF MEMORIES
an angry night spent alone in Spartan space harshest words committed to pen and paper come first light, she casts them upon the hearth giving false hope, but no reprieve to fading embers then watches her wretched waspish, now blackened text flake then become devoured within the sooty vortex in those times of strength … More WITHIN TANGLED MINDS
- MIKE STEEDEN - 