The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle

twisted

  • What are you being fed?

    “And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the money-changers, and the seats of them that sold doves. And said to them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer, but ye have made… Read more

  • Metus impotentiae

    In the brightness of midnight,the floorboards creak as silently I hear deliberate whispers beneath my feet; a harbinger of something unseen Internal secrets,breath held tight,the air has a scent, seemingly metallic and bitter,and unspoken fears are gnawing like rats at the edges of the mind What lies in the empty room that people all avoid?… Read more

  • webbed dust

    dust collects on the edges of memories living room walls grayed with outlines of what was,photographs hang in webbed silence each face frozen in a laugh that no longer resounds Their love as a vase cracked, yet still holding water,the stems of our shared days with petals dry, dead on the floor, they dropped only… Read more

  • easily astray

    I sit on the bed old memories playing like kids at recess yet, they are threadbare and unraveling, past voices and scenes of life weigh heavy as I search for the love they had In my mind, I see clearly my mother’s hands,calloused and soft,cradling the weight of my childhood,her laughter like sweet songs of… Read more

  • Attending my funeral

    My tears fall like a dropped coin,tinkling, and twirling to rest; a reminder of absence,the sounds of what was, and what will never be I sit with my grief, no longer my parents deaths, but new demons to face wrapped in heavy webbing Outside, friends lives continue, their new family arrivals or other joy and… Read more