This blog is for all that is Literary, great or small.
|Posted by Darrell on January 19, 2015 at 11:20 PM||comments (0)|
As administrator, my resolution for 2015 is to keep on top of this website more than I did in 2014, to make it more informative than it has been. I ask the members of the club and visitors to make good use of the "News" page.
Here's to an up and coming new year.8)
|Posted by mccoyfamily on January 19, 2015 at 10:50 PM||comments (0)|
This annoucement is for past and future visitors to this website and our club members. Official club members will be listed on the "About Us" page. Official club members can also post theirselves on the "Members" page. Unofficial members or visitors to the website, can post theirselves Only on the "Members" page. They can be deleted if they list theirself under a name that could be misconstrued as offensive. This could give a bad name and or feel to this website. We the "Union County Writers' Club" would rather not have that happen. We thank you for your understanding.
|Posted by mccoyfamily on May 30, 2014 at 9:20 AM||comments (0)|
To the present club members, our website has been revised and will continue to be in the upcoming days and weeks. Any changes you think to improve it, please let the site administrator know by leaving a note on the Contact Us page or making a comment at the next Club meeting.
|Posted by mccoyfamily on January 12, 2013 at 9:10 AM||comments (0)|
My Watch Is Always Wrong
My watch is always wrong. It ticks, it tocks, And skips along The sands of time While I behind, Moaning, Am forced to follow.
from the "The Fear Years"
|Posted by mccoyfamily on January 12, 2013 at 9:05 AM||comments (0)|
Air trembles like a bow on a string Still lighter the beater brakes
Its tremolo over the rose bush Its timbre breaks into fragments
The chords of our voices As we across the table
The clatter of dishes Falls unheard against our window
The beater does not care for us We are slow as snails to him
As he alarms the blossoms With his gentle probing
There is life inside the glass There is life outside the glass
For my part, I would prefer To be a beater of the morning air.