Passionate about the environment and all living things. Writing for fun and for therapy.
There is a taboo around Sharing your views around Politics and whom You plan to give your vote And put into power and You're all in that boat
By Emma Weir3 days ago in Poets
You can be in all the group chats Always first to reply Make everyone aware How much you care and How much you try and
By Emma Weir7 days ago in Poets
Before you "pet that dawg" There are some things you need To take note of or To ask if unsure Because before you stick your hand out
"TeddyBear, come on. Come on, let's go weewees. Weewees. Weewees! Good girl, let's go. And I'm closing the door too so you can't ditch me outside this time, babs.
By Emma Weir12 days ago in Fiction
Hello. Seeing how you must have found yourself here, it seems you may require some... additional support. Therefore, I have taken the time to include an unnecessary extra clue for you. I was forewarned that this may be too difficult for some of my weaker-minded guests, so despite my confidences, I have installed these fail-safes.
By Emma Weir19 days ago in Fiction
Too many people New flavours, sounds; old small talk Hubby's arms hold tight
By Emma Weirabout a month ago in Poets
Burnt fingers claw at flickering flames Where once a fire blazed Charred flesh Smoky sweetness fills the air They breathe
By Emma Weir2 months ago in Poets
Fire consumes all below the surface Swallowing whole the fullness of my reasons for still being And igniting them Setting alight the feelings
Hair blowing in the wind, the young girl pulled the loose ribbon the last strands of the way, the bow collapsing. She tied the pink velvet around itself, tucking it into a hidden pocket of the matching peacoat with mud splattered up from the hem.
By Emma Weir2 months ago in Fiction
I've been avoiding this place, the touch of the ghosts echoing across my hidden skin. I pull my sleeves down further and hold the bunched cuffs in my fists. My neck wishes for a scarf as the still air threatens unconsented kisses and promises a chill that'll never leave.
There's a place I'm scared to go Because the monsters there are different I won't know when to brace for impact Brace for landing
Stepping into the field of things remembered by my mind is like stepping into a field of landmines because there's always something
By Emma Weir3 months ago in Poets
