Writers Harbor

Author: Francis Meyrick

  • Exile

    EXILE credit: Mantovani – Exodus (we hold something precious in our hands: the fate of our very own true inner self. “a fragile craft in gentle hands “) EXILE I wonder often what dark dreams were flowing through my silent mind and where did all those waters flow the streams of unrelenting thought? My refuge…

  • When Saddam met Satan

    The book he clutched (do you remember that photo of Saddam being led to the gallows, clutching the Koran?) Of all the thuggery the world has known from the subtle to full blown few can match the art so well as one guy I hope’s in Hell. He was indeed a prototype who never learned…

  • When I look at the sky

    When I look at the sky I realize why I feel so small grasshopper tall when I contemplate our feeble fate. Who dares to say that their way is the ‘only’ road that will carry the load of the great(?) mind of Humankind?   Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 23, 2010, 9:21 pm

  • Friendship

    credit: Vangelis ” The Tao of Love “ (Bounced off: Butterfli’s ” I call you friend “) Friendship “It is my hope that you find peace It is my help that you have when you need It is my love that shall never end And it is all because I call you friend “ And…

  • The ugly little turtle

      The ugly little turtle For as long as he could remember, he had been there.Huddled together with his brothers and sisters, in their cozy, warm bed.But now, as he lay and listened to the sighing wind outside, the important chatterings of his siblings, and the restless storm inside his mind, he knew things were…

  • Bounce (1)

    BOUNCE (1) “This story was inspired by… “ Why does this phrase annoy me? Why should I allow five little words to make me contemplate a headlong rush to the nearest barf bag? It doesn’t seem right to have such a strong reaction. I should be more philosophical, and lead a more contemplative life. I,…

  • Decline and Fall (1)

    Decline and Fall of the…. Roman Empire? The ancient Roman gladiatorial sports… We’ve seen the movie. Maybe… even read the book. We all know… it was pretty brutal. I would suggest that these “sports ” were, in their own way, a damning verdict on their society. And not a good one. It spoke of the…

  • Last Night

    (This is a poem to a former lover, who died alone in a single vehicle car crash. We rode a motorbike for thousands of miles.) Last Night Last night, from far away, I thought I heard a distant sound, beckoning me, waking me, urgently calling me. It seemed to me it stirred an old memory…

  • Piano Lessons

    (I originally wrote this tongue-in-cheek story for “Writer’s Cafe “, deliberately full of all sorts of technical goblins, as a protest against the beatings I saw regularly being dished out by some remarkably haughty and unfeeling “popular ” writers, who sat in contemptuous judgment of struggling artists; it fell on deaf ears, and I eventually…