August 2017
At every chevron on every bend, there's a reminder of a new beginning coming after every end.
Mist on the mountains, rolling over the lochan's water, embracing a lost son and a wounded daughter, both trying to get back from following in their father's fading tracks.
Picture: Havenshell
may isle
CONTENTS
- Columns (60)
- Prose poems (24)
- Songs (14)
Welcome
Welcome to 'A Frample', a confused tangle of columns, prose poems and lyrics. It's not so much a blog as an online folder, lying somewhere between a drawer and the bin.
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East Fife Mail, April 1, 1992 At an age when I am supposed to have outgrown all passing fads and crazes, I still carry that demon ...
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Continuing my solo therapy with there not being enough resources for a one-to-one with a professional, deemed not suitable for a group onl...
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October 9, 2019 Have you ever sat in your car in a hospital car park, trying not to be sick; wanting not to have seen what you’ve s...
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My attic is my space, most of it given over to books, photographs and a very old but loyal computer. It is not the most accessible of plac...
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Confused. She's so confused about everything that's going on. Abused. She's been abused since the day she was born. High-viz ...

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