D. J. Reddall

Joined June 2022

896 stories

Bio

I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.

Achievements (15)

Stories (896)

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Breath Theft
This is the wonder you choose to perform? Having acquired esoteric truth With light and tools enough to things reform You proudly show you're red of claw and tooth?
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Still Sitting. Top Story - January 2025.
They say you are a genius, but you smell Like the old well behind the sacristy; None of the stories the other girls tell
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
A Blessed Reprieve
What a precious gift To read and write for pleasure With nothing to grade
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Kakistocrats
Do you ever get the feeling that our age is one In which the phrase, “Any fool can do this!” Has been construed as a sort of challenge, motto, or even
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Time Management
Subtract memory And imagination and Only now remains
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Melchior's Misgivings
Look, I’m not sure we ought to be here now She’s just given birth, for pity’s sake, man! Don’t look at me that way, with furrowed brow
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Judaea
What would it be like To breathe like a mortal man And learn you're a god?
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Cold Reunion
Some of you were spared by the vicious axe! How clearly I remember dreaming here When no tongue admonished me to relax
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Elf Life
At this time of year, I am never still Blizzards of toys and games must be dealt with Craziness abounds in our vast workshop
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Rudolph's Revenge
All noses are not just the same, alas Beauty is rare among them; most are plain Countless are the mundane, generic beaks
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
The Wager
Sure, we're unhappy But soon, we'll be dead and you Will be unhappy
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Krampus Knuckles Down
As the inky, icy nights of winter Blanket the land with smothering, soft snow Children await their coveted presents Deep in my diabolical, old heart
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets