Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

Blog entries by Philip Smith

A little excerpt for you all, this would be part of "The Rat" "What would this institute want with a man of my abilities." Delaney asked "You came highly recommend by General McCall." the director for the Institute for Alternative Thinking said. "and that is the only reason I'm here, as a favor to the General. With that out of the way what can I do for you Mr. Kolb" "In 1995, before NATO started bombing in the Balkans you were in a small Albanian village." he paused for effect...
For those of you wondering why I haven't added any additional posts on my blog the reason is my mind returned to prison while my body stayed home. That is something you may not understand and I hate to use the "until the walk in my shoes" thing. To me that's an excuse or cop out. My life is or was no worse than most of you out there reading this post. My life was a direct result of my actions and no others. With that being said and out in the open I'll try to explain what my opening...
Short Nothings. ‎"I miss my Home" Only if I knew where she was, is it an actually place or the feeling of belonging. The comfort zone when laying your head down for a nights sleep? Is it overrated or underrated? Does one even vote on such things? Is it a place or is it a person that makes home, home. I miss her so much. I want her back. They say "home is where the heart is" well my heart is empty so I guess I need to go buy some furniture.
We can be Hero's. I think all along the way in the highway of life we want, we need, we desire to become someone's hero. Someone's knight in shinning armor. Sadly most of the time we tumble for what ever reason and only turn out to be something less then a hero. In prison it was so easy. By saying that I mean you knew what to expect. Violence begot violence. Niceness was taken as a sign of weakness or you wanted something. The highway had no on ramps nor exits, no caution signs. What was...
For those of you who don't know I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you I was just recently released from a Maximum Security Prison in the state of Texas. I spent 10 years of my life for a crime I did commit. I'm in the minority as far as inmates are concerned. I admit my guilt. In doing so I also acknowledge the pain I put my love ones through. Meaning no Daddy, no brother, In order to get my life back on track I must forgive myself and in there lies my biggest problem. I have yet...
Time to be a Man (again) August 28, 2001. My life changed or at least started the decline of my sanity. That's when I started my 10 year sentence. I finished it August 26, 2011. I was released on a Friday because Texas is passionate and doesn't release inmates on the weekend. So I was freed "a little early". In those 10 years I accumulated page upon page, notebook upon notebook of my stay behind bars. A diary of sorts, my thoughts, my fears, my hopes, my fantasies. Words from a dying...
The Rat scurried through the back alleys of Old Montreal ever so vigilant of his surrounds. He knew the area well. His rivals could not be seen tonight, but the Rat knew all to well they were there. Movement to his left caught his eye and he paused, searching for the cause. Friend or foe? ally or enemy? He waited listening for any signs of an attack. "Well well my friend it is you" the Rat thought to himself. The Pick had finally made his appearance tonight. he had heard much of this...
Upstate New York C‎lear Cut Lumber Camp 17 April 1912 "Come on Gamache, us new guys have never heard the story". a young logger said Roland Gamache was a fifty two year old French Canadian lumberjack who had worked for the Clear family lumber or mining business for over thirty five years. "It was close to where we are right now about two miles up there , between the Devil's Mistresses". Gamache said pointing north...
Top