One of my rare poems.
The Witching Hour by D.I. Jolly
And somehow that would make everything alright, like the rain.
Heritage by D.I. Jolly
Heritage by D.I. Jolly A prose poem It was 4 years to the day that the letter arrived, four years to the day since the incident where my father, a quiet man with a strange sense of humour apparently lost control. It had often been said that he used to tell himself jokes, because only…
Circles By D.I. Jolly
It was 7 am when his alarm started screaming, telling him he’d lain awake all night.
Questions By D.I. Jolly
What if I’m actually too old?
Addiction By D.I. Jolly
A half-remembered dream that’s slowly coming into clarity.
A True Story By D.I. Jolly
“Play with me.”
Normal By D.I. Jolly
It’s the perfect life.
The normal life.
It’s the life everyone wants.