Category Archives: Author/Writer, Raconteur

In the silence of the dreams is where my devil lives And in no memories in my mind do I find room to forgive The demands that were made before a conscience was born Leaving lives that were buried and … Continue reading →

Originally posted on Roberta Writes:
What is the most difficult part of your artistic process? This is an intriguing question which I can only answer if I first break down what I think my own writing process is. I have…

No parts of any parts can be reproduced without the author’s permission. Please refer here for Part One of Part One– https://theauthordannykemp.com/2019/06/08/part-one-of-part-one/ And Please refer here for Part Two of Part One– https://theauthordannykemp.com/2019/06/08/part-two-of-part-one-please-pay-attention/   The Tragic Story Of The Deva … Continue reading →

She was on her own, at least for me that is how I saw her. In the midst of that company, who swirled around like moths to a light, full of show and puerile trite. My mind was pure, sacred … Continue reading →

A heart that was broken then laid to rest Will slowly rot before it reaches its time for death. Sailing high from its sorrow it must rise above, And search for the happiness it once found in love. © 2019, … Continue reading →

Words have no owners. Silently they float disguised as thoughts waiting for a home, then if they find a receptive mind they grow, becoming a painting of so many colours that once put together correctly they become a masterpiece that … Continue reading →

There are ghosts fast come approaching I saw them ducking through the dark. Their eyes were hollow, still, and frightening. The look on their face was grey and stark. I heard a voice croaking and wheezing As blood dripped from … Continue reading →

Long hues of shadows in areas that shade Life comes from the darkness where anger is made There’s a commitment to death as a way to end time But then time is perpetual where love is no crime. Don’t read … Continue reading →

From the earnest, solemn delivery of promises to come To the whispering slap of the bullet not seen from the gun There are records strewn everywhere of what could have been changed, To prevent the easily persuaded from becoming madmen … Continue reading →