The other day, I was telling a friend about our Burnside Writers’ Group’s world-famous Three Hundred Words and he asked how I went about writing them. Hmm, I thought, how do I go about it? What thought patterns and wide nets do I consider and throw out into the ether? Much the same as everyoneContinue reading “Roger Monk: Those Three Hundred Words”
Category Archives: Roger Monk
Roger Monk: The Garden
Matted elm leaves abandoning all hope. Naked sticks of unashamed winter. Glorious nightshade in purple velvet, tall as six year olds and just as deadly. Bunched violets scuttling over bare ground, covering the sins of summer. New boy on the block: feijoa, name still attached, where once a paperbark, now stacked firewood. A rockContinue reading “Roger Monk: The Garden”
Roger Monk: Book Ends
I am at the end, book. I have turned your pages and this is where you go no further. I close you slowly, book, and stare, flicking memory to this moment or that, pondering you in part or whole, my inner eyes giving me again that moment of excitement of fear of sorrow or joyContinue reading “Roger Monk: Book Ends”
Roger Monk: Kitchen Kaper
It may come as a surprise to you that I have been known to pay the odd visit to our kitchen. Usually, it’s with a tea towel in my hands, but now and then I venture in because I rather fancy myself, unwisely, as a master of pastry. For some very basic, challenging echo ofContinue reading “Roger Monk: Kitchen Kaper”
Burnside Writers Group 