Richard Crowhurst - Logo

  

            Enagri - The magazine for renewable energy

 

SHORT STORIES & POETRY

I don't do as much creative writing as I should, or would like, to do. However, a few of my pieces have been placed in competitions or posted on the Internet, and you can see these below. Just click on the green book logo to open the link.

Short Fiction

Memory of Wood  Book. Click here for link

Was a short listed finalist in the Fygleaves 2005 Short Story Competition. As well as reading the story, you can also view the judge's appraisal. Thanks to everyone who voted for my story!

  The Memory of Wood will also be published in the first Fygleaves Anthology!

The Morning After  Book. Click here for link

Came seventh in Saturday Writers' 4th Annual Short Story Contest and was the only story by an English author to be mentioned.

Creative Non Fiction

Lone Walk to Freedom  Book. Click here for link

Was a personal story that was published by Toowrite.com. It describes some of the events that led to my becoming a writer.

Writing the Revolution  

This essay has just been highly commended in the Essay/Article category of The New Writer's 2005 Prose & Poetry Prizes. The essay finished in the top six and will be published in The New Writer shortly. Check back for details, but in the meantime, check out their website.

Poetry

Not my first medium, but a couple of my favourite pieces can be seen below:

Comfort


Crumbling walls surround us
Providing scant protection.
Fighting continues outside;
Muffled shouts, occasional shots.
Shadows crawl across a
Sunless, apocalyptic landscape.

Like sugar dusted candy,
The streets are coated in poison.
Those outside know how sour
Their lives are now.
Blue mouths taunt and curse each other:
Creatures they cannot see.

In her arms I’m free to dream.
Her innocence had not spared her.
Now faded blankets warm us,
Idle blonde hair lies against my cheek,
Boyish breast trembles beneath me.
While we sleep, a new day forms.

© Richard Crowhurst, 2003

Damp


A teardrop of damp
Glides down the wall;
The flaking plaster
Blue as your eyes 
On the day you said goodbye.
The plaster puckers and cracks
Like our love before.
The soft brickwork beneath,
Dampened and pale,
Your rose coloured lips
Are lost to me now.
All I can do is
Sit at my desk
As the mildew spreads.
A dark stain growing
From my heart.




© Richard Crowhurst, 2005

 

 

[Home] [Writing Services] [Writing Samples] [About Me] [Contact Me] [Links] [Blog]

All text on this website © Richard Crowhurst, 2006. All images believed to be used in accordance with appropriate terms or use, etc.