Immaculate Silence – Eileen Morrissey

This poem ,like the paining vividly reflects the turmoil in the stillness

You carefully applied grey eyeshadow and long strokes of black mascara.
The image in the mirror never appeased.
You brushed your long fair hair and considered tying it back.
Instead you chose to leave it free.
In your small red handbag you placed keys, mobile, wallet,
cigarettes and lighter, a miniature vodka and some valium.
A blue ford escort minicab took you there.
You talked to the driver about your life, your family, your country.
Paying the fare, you thanked him and said that you were fine.
It was dark and cold, the grass wet from the morning’s rain.
The moon shone luminously.
You ran all the way, the driver of the cab calling after you.
Feet wet in impractical shoes.
Your breathing coming fast and loud, heart pounding,
mascara tears trickled down your face.
The sound of traffic and the cabbies voice grew fainter.
You could see the edge…

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One Summer Day – Catherine Walshe


A breeze sweeps across the downs
through the door, ajar
a slant of morning light cuts through
scorching the vacant chair.
Dust mites float above scrubbed tiles
beneath tired curtains
that remain open through sultry evenings.
The last scent of bread fades away
from the oven.
Ships with their masts pointed downwards
drip dry on breakfast dishes
after picnic baskets have been carried away
across meadows and cornfields.
Tick tock, tick tock, the clock chimes on.

All day long shadows shift and change shape
a room rests in silent longing
for the hour
when weary workers return home
beneath angels looking down
from pink tinted clouds
on hay stacks and sheaves of corn.

Catherine Walshe enjoys painting, writing short stories and poetry, she draws inspiration from the Golden Vale in Tipperary where she grew up and from walks on the Sussex Downs. Catherine illustrated a kindle book cover, Getting Away…

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Don’t turn your back on me                                                                                                                           and walk away.                                                                                                                                                            We have to talk and sort things out                                                                                                              there are so many facts we’ve never spoke about.                                                                             Each time we’ve tried                                                                                                                                        the sky turned black with cloud.                                                                                                                     What is the point, you’ve asked:                                                                                                                             row after row is what you want?

Why should we fight,                                                                                                                                       Why should there be a war                                                                                                                           when peace and understanding could do more?

I want to talk,not keep my mouth shut.                                                                                                      I want to share with you                                                                                                                                                 the life I had when we were far apart,

I want to tell you                                                                                                                                                        of those left on  fields where sun burns hot                                                                                                    and turns their bones to dust.                                                                                                                                                         I want to know,                                                                                                                                                    how did you spent your time,                                                                                                                    whose arms you hugged, whose kisses did you share,                                                                       where did you go and who you’d met?

You want to draw a line under all that.                                                                                                              You feed me,                                                                                                                                                                   sit me in the chair,                                                                                                                                               while you out to taste the clean fresh air.

Is it too much to ask                                                                                                                                             to be together like we were?                                                                                                                            Don’t turn your back on me,                                                                                                                         lets sit and chat the way we were.



Julian Germaine and John Napier

a most enlightening, enjoyable experience


Fourteen writers joined us at Towner Art Gallery in Eastbourne this Saturday for some writing inspiration from not just one, but two fantastic exhibitions. Julian Germaine’s The Future is Ours explores the universal themes of school and childhood through film and photograph, showing portraits of school children from 19 countries around the world. Germain spent 8 years documenting 461 school classrooms throughout Europe, Africa, Asia, South East Asia, Middle East and South America. Whilst multi award-winning set and costume designer John Napier brings theatre and art together in a new exhibition, Stages, Beyond the Fourth Wall.

Julian Germaine’s work proved such a rich resource for writing that we spent most of our time with this complex and exciting exhibition. Writers started with time to wander round and form their own responses to the show. As one regular Drawn To The Page writer, Helen, shared, one of the things she…

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Traveling through France

On the 18 November,at 14.14 I boarded a train at Perpignan on my way to Barcelona Sants.There was no ticket control,and no border passport control when crossing from France into Spain.I arrived at Barcelona and left the station.I could have spared my expence in buying the ticket. This was 3days after the terrible events in Paris. I would not be surprised if it would happen again.

Paris will never be the same

Paris,the city of liberte,the city of freedom,Paris that welcomed everyone Paris fraternite,where everyone had equal rights.It I’ll be a miracle if it could stay the same. The scar is too deep to heal without leaving grave markings! Perhaps we had it too good for a long time;perhaps new generations have became restless and need the excitement of killing. Maybe they lack the experience of suffering, of loosing nearest and dearest. The world we live in is changing and Paris is changing with it through pain and loss