Deonora P

👩‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩1️⃣5️⃣👩‍🦰🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🇷🇴 I try to write stuff. That counts. I love music and books and anything else that comes along. Especially mountain shaped anything else’s.

208

Writings

Followers

133

Following

Deonora P

208

Writings

Followers

133

Following

Is It Meant To Glow?

Deonora P

1 min read

Why are the lights on damnit! And the curtains, why aren’t they shut?

Ow. How does walking hurt? How does that little tiny movement make my head feel like that?

Damnit.

I can’t do this. Hangover cure. Phone. Too bright, too bright, ow.

Google. “Hang over cure”. No. That’s all products to buy.

“How to make a hangover cure at home”. That’s better.

- - -

No. It stinks. And it looks gross. I ...

Wishing

Deonora P

1 min read

I remember as a kid,

I never heeded warnings.

I’d hide in my treehouse,

Throwing stones at bears,

I’d go swimming in the river,

Alone, all by myself.

I’d climb the highest tree,

Just to watch everyone else,

I’d sit on the hearth,

Watching the flames,

Imagining, poking, playing.

I sit all alone now, wishing I was still that person....

Poetry

Suits, Dresses And Fatigues

Deonora P

1 min read

Family dinner, Friday night. Everyone’s busy, it’s an agreement, come in work clothes if you must.

Sat around the table is the father and mother, wealthy, dressed smartly. There is the eldest son, in his work clothes, dressed as an accountant. The eldest daughter is dressed as a lawyer. The youngest daughter is as a banker and so is the other daughter.

Today however, there is an unusual member.

...

I Remember

Deonora P

1 min read

I remember as a child, I used to sit under the oak in the field furthest from the house. It was an attempt to escape the inescapable. At least there I couldn’t hear it, but I always had to go back. Trudge down the path, first I’d hear wailing, then I’d see running and crying, then I’d be near enough I could feel the ground shaking. The looting never ended....

The Clouds

Deonora P

1 min read

I used to jump up, arms outstretched, trying to grab at the candy floss clouds to see if they tasted as sweet as they looked.

I used to watch the birds in envy of their wings, these allowed them to live amongst the fluff I saw in my dreams.

When my papa told me that rain doesn’t just come from the clouds, it is the clouds, I used to wait for the skies to cloud over then run outside with pots and...

Secret Rebellion

Deonora P

1 min read

Every day I do not eat my greens. I have no mother living with me now, I am not scolded, yet I have my rebellion....

Seven Years Since

Deonora P

1 min read

For years now, I have not slept. I do not mean to say I have not fallen into bed, pulled the covers over my head, shut my eyes and lost consciousness, but I have not slept in a way that is restful, pleasant, or anything more than a necessity.

The last time I remember truly sleeping was on a camping trip seven years ago. Seven of us, all close friends, one tent. We pitched it in the middle of the ...

The Glasses

Deonora P

1 min read

She walks in the door and he lowers his voice.

She sits in her chair, taking out a book, reading with her glasses halfway down her nose.

He excuses himself, they need more milk, he’ll pop out and get some.

She waits till he leaves.

She takes off her glasses and closes her book.

She goes to the fridge, and sees, sure enough, a whole unopened bottle of milk.

A sharp voiced phone call and the c...

The Crow

Deonora P

1 min read

Fred must be the oldest man around, he’s sat in the corner of his cottage, drinking Tuica and denying the possibility of any far stretched, or reasonable, belief of the villagers and wider world. He uses his rifle as a walking stick, telling everyone it’s the same as he shot in the big war, when really it came from the charity shop down the road.

One day, when a crow landed in his garden, the wh...

Spring Time

Deonora P

1 min read

It’s cold, and wet, and the duram can’t be harvested.

That ancient New Holland of Mike’s got stuck in the mud, took me forever to get it out.

The barley barely took.

Joan and Harry down the road just had TB, bye bye all those lovely Belgian blues.

But there’s always spring time, before fly strike hits, after the mud, when there’s new lambs and calves and piglets and the sun shines, or at least...