Pebbles.

Poetry – Pebbles

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Tricoloured pebbles, the sand stepping-stones of a shuffling huddle, or shifting land - a clinking crowd at ground.

Figure of Night – Poetry for Halloween

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There is no figure of night pieced together from patches of dark room, scrambled light of a blink.
daffodil and catkins.

Bouquet: Flash Fiction by K. S. Moore

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The pale yellow, shell-like construction of a daffodil . . . My niece presents me with the flower, along with a handful of catkins. The catkins draw my senses with their animal texture and my heart twists. This pure gesture stands out as my world continues to revolve with change. I take a sheet of blank paper, arrange the flowers, like a sketch. Every element has a shadow. I note the light and the darkness, capture them with my camera.

Poetry at Christmas

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I'm excited to share the news that 'Poetry at Christmas' will take place at Greyfriars Municipal Art Gallery, Waterford on Monday, 23rd December. Come and join the Christmas fun from 5.30 pm.
Ophelia standing onstage.

Onstage Story, Part 2 – The Mask of Ophelia

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“Now.”The word signals the start of the rescue operation. Leonardo swoops on the foundation, measuring out the exact amount required for each cheek and for Martha's high forehead. He dots, blends and expands, taking the reddish hue from her skin, replacing it with a pale sheen: the mask of Ophelia.
Owl with bright orange eyes.

Flash Fiction: Owl Eyes

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Owl eyes are the deepest. They draw you in, when you don't want to be drawn. When you want to sit still and mind your own business, stay lost in your own thoughts. This owl was curious. I saw it in his red-rust flecks. He wasn't about to blink. Then again, neither was I.
Cover Image for new ebook collection of short stories: 'Heart Strings' by K. S. Moore.

Ebook Launch: Heart Strings by K. S. Moore

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I've just published my collection of Short Stories: 'Heart Strings' as an ebook on Amazon. Cue fanfare, fireworks, champagne corks popping . . . Yes, you guessed it, I'm celebrating! :) Join the fun by hopping over to:
Fishing boats at Dungarvan.

Wounded Boat – Poem

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He kneels in the twilight, spinning moon disc hot with the surgical grindof steel, the bleed now sparking sickness, weeping fire from the fountain wound.

Creative Writing at Garter Lane Arts Centre

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I'm looking forward to bringing Creative Writing to Garter Lane Arts Centre, with my workshop: 'Start Write', taking place on November 23rd.