13/06/2026
Another great afternoon of creativity along at Catch 23 Writers Group yesterday afternoon. Mark Jones led an interesting session focusing on metaphor's.
And after a hearty & healthy lunch of smoked salmon quiche & salad members went onto to write some AMAZING work, Check out some examples of work from our SUPER-TALENTED group members below✒️✍️👇
The Poisoning of a King
She stalked onto the room claws already feeling for the spiced mix. She was the one who mixed the wind for the king. She had been told how much to add to each size of glass. And warned if she added more there would almost certainly be an enquiry. She did not care if he was among the dead that was enough. She wished it was long enough. Her long te****le like fingers wrapped around the glass as she poured a waterfall of wind with the spice and fungus cataract into the glass. The wine taster, who would only taste a little of the mix would not fall ill until tonight and probably recover by morning he picked up the cavernous opaque crystal and lifted it to his lips drinking in death.
Author: Anne Christina Nicolson
A metaphor is a magic trick, A spell of seeming.
Look the apple is a planet, the planet a coin, the storm a prowling beast.
The port turns one thing into another, turns it inside out, shows its guts.
Calls them ribbons.
I am gauze, insubstantial. I cover my own eyes, have them bleared, blunted, leave them sticking to the fabric of themselves.
Clothes make a handy metaphor. Signs and signifies its satins.
Status, residue, deceit. They can also keep the rain off, which is nice.
Author: Shell Bromley
A metaphor is
a bird that
sings, it flies
from tree to tree
it grips its perch
then spreads its wings
and then envelopes me.
with feathers filled
with oil and fine
it heads out
towards the sun
til’ the day I heard its name.
I didn’t know I needed one.
Author: Chris Matheson
Autumn breezes
Cooly in her face
Orange and brown
Receeding
from the summer sun
the leaves as they rot down.
The metaphor can oil
the wheels
and power along a poem.
Among the twigs
On the woodland floor
Where insects burrow
and run
to find a winter
shelter
the waiting for the sun to shine and ask
her silver rays
reflecting through
like snow
and ice melts through
to spring times
warmth
they’ve nowhere else
to go.
Author: Isabelle Moss
Only Yesterday
It feels like only yesterday that
I was little and went to Polish school
Went to university and met new friends
Met my future husband and
We had some adventures
We got married
My daughter was born
A small person
We used to go camping in a tent
We holidayed in a camper van
He got ill with Parkinson's
Then the more severe Lewey bodies
He suffered and then died
Now I was left alone in our house
Developed new routines
Found groups I could join
Then only yesterday
has become today
Author: Anonymous
P.S & discreet belated birthday greetings to one of our treasured group members who celebrated their 70th birthday this week...
