The Writer's Voice
The World's Favourite Literary Website

The Barn


Rusty Broadspear

The barn spotted me first, through the drizzle.

Orange glowing eyes, six of ‘em, through the trees.

Shaieete!! It looked awesome, friendly, scary.

Used to be a better place, but that’s life’s trapeze.


Took us some trekkin’ t’get ta that old barn,

Hills, holes, traps, nature’s natural defences.

Back pack was a’hurtin’ so I dropped it and saw a draieeeeve.

Shaieete!! Black top for miles – ooooh! How time condenses.


‘N’ orange lights, ‘n’ cleeeeeoned minture trees

All spaced out, (like me), for some praieeevate road.

Darned paeillars ‘n’ a porch for a WHAIeeete front door!

Hell – used t’torture folk in thayer ‘specially when it snowed


So went back for m’bag, ‘n’ singin’ ‘No Place Like Home’

Staggrin’ ‘n’  ‘a’stumblin ‘ towards the whaieeete front door,

I spat ‘n’ smoked, coughed, staggered ‘n’ choked.

The barn was ‘ost to six limowseenzes, I stopped ‘n’ picked up my jaw.


Back on the street, rubbin’ my feet

‘N’ beggin’ from all that come by.

I think of that barn and think darn!

Think where has it gohw’n?

Where is everywoh’n?

Nothing left now

My head hits the pavement

And f’r the first time in my laahfe

I cry.  

Critique this work

Click on the book to leave a comment about this work

All Authors (hi-speed)    All Authors (dialup)    Children    Columnists    Contact    Drama    Fiction    Grammar    Guest Book    Home    Humour    Links    Narratives    Novels    Poems    Published Authors    Reviews    September 11    Short Stories    Teen Writings    Submission Guidelines

Be sure to have a look at our Discussion Forum today to see what's
happening on The World's Favourite Literary Website.