• steven holding

BLOG NUMBER TWENTY-TWO: THE HINT OF WINTER BECAME A PROMISE…

“This is the strangest life I’ve ever known”

WAITING FOR THE SUN – THE DOORS



Strange days indeed. So, I cling to these thoughts: that what we do to survive, to stay alive, is not what defines us. Instead, let it be the thing that makes your soul shine that shapes your sense of self. Paint, write, sing, dance, create or maybe just lose yourself in the art that others make.

Twenty-six letters rearranged then placed upon a page never ceases to amaze…

Never, ever ceases to amaze me…




BITCHES BREW by Steven Holding.

Jazz. Again! Jesus.

His choice of tunes exacerbated her anger. Their argument earlier had been all consuming, eating up yet another day.

Since then she’d been stewing, the names he’d yelled as potent as a slap in the face.

Mixing his drink, she slipped in the potion: a concoction of poison and gin.



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BLOG NUMBER TWENTY-EIGHT: TIME IS A FLAT CIRCLE…

Stumbled across this ancient poem, written several lifetimes ago by a confused youth who is now nothing more than somebody that I used to know. But I remember liking it, and I guess I still do, and ma

BLOG NUMBER TWENTY-SIX: PONTOON TALES…

There is no protection from rejection, so here’s another collection; a selection that failed to attract any attention. A curation of miniature creations. An exhibition of my obsessions. Take ‘em or le