D. J. Reddall

Joined June 2022

893 stories

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

Achievements (15)

Stories (893)

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Tasty Torus
Alas, too many sources of delight are deleterious to one’s health Before sinking one’s teeth into some tender victual, one must be reminded
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Sawing the air too much
Given the status quo, that is, the existing state of things, or the way we are all spending Our brief lives at present
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Snide Effect
Somethings stirs in the shrinking, modern soul Ignorance and confidence, its parents; It is an effect, and takes a huge toll
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Savory Solitude
"If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company." --Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit, 1944 Plagues produce profound, prolonged solitude
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
It Wasn't Surreal
“Surrealism: Pure psychic automatism, by means of which it is proposed to express, be it through writing, verbally or in any other way, the real functioning of thought; of the dictation of thought in the absence of all control exercised by reason and outside all moral or aesthetic concerns.” –André Breton, The Surrealist Manifesto, 1924
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
A Lingering Light
Legion are the grim reasons to despair Clearly, things are not as they ought to be About truth or wisdom, few seem to care
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Portefeuille Perdu
Am I more than a deck of plastic cards? What evidence that I exist is there? A mosaic of vague, digital shards How many losses can anyone bear?
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
The Worried Watchman
Voyeurism proliferates today Watching, streaming, looking: these delight us The looker can be looked at; what dismay! ‘Tis mete then, this dilemma to discuss
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
The Golden Mean
We really must stop being so afraid Cowardice creates deep paralysis; Strong and decisive moves must now be made No time remains for slow analysis
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
One Night
This must occur a billion times a day From perfunctory to passionate, these Dances are performed; permit me to say This one was ours alone—how best to seize
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
The Coach
“Coach, it’s forty below and snowing like crazy out there, and your team is suddenly red hot. You had a terrible start to the season and now you are certain to make the playoffs. How did you pull it off?”
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Fiction
Goodnight Nurse
Nothing is more salutary than this: The aid received from a complete stranger Disease, decay and death stalk every bliss
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets