"Screenwriting is not the glamorous profession it’s made out to be," explains award-winning film and television scriptwriter Clive Dawson in this candid interview. "It’s a hard slog, with few rewards and a great deal of heartache. However, the enjoyment is to be found in the process, not the end result, and just occasionally, it’s worth the effort."
A professional screenwriter for over 20 years, Dawson has written countless hours of TV episodes for UK television and contributed to top-rated ITV and BBC dramas. Three of his screenplays have been produced into major motion pictures, with another 3 in pre-production or development.
please touch, please reach through
worlds, and rescue, grasp, tease
hold firm and wrap yourself
around these vacant needs
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
Oh, where do the hours go?
Blinded no more are we
On our hopes that were forlorn
Now that we finally see
The light of darkness’ morn
Sure I chased you
And never found you
But you kept that spark alive
Through foggy, disjointed
Your hand touched mine
And I felt the heat.
Flow like a
River to the
How I have abused your
Unassuming welcome –
Ravished receptacle for my
When lips touched, Niagara’s falls heightened up speed,
The waves crashed faster, so I just took the lead.
Emotions were high. Might as well call it weed,
DNA spilled profusely. You chose to let it bleed.
Me? I’m no angel. I’m guilty as charged,
Convicted of attraction. Eternally at large.
The judge should throw the book at my seductive soul,
Probation wouldn’t work. Control is my goal.
Tree of life bends now tree of death,
Will for one, all for naught.
When will arid soul give way to soaring rains?
Announcing the poets who won the Erotic Poetry Contest we hosted on Writer's Cafe!
Longing to feel the pleasure of your blow
as I hold the rod of your love. My dear,
I know our roots will not go much deeper.
For now, like atoms, I want you as near.
And how many thoughts on my mind
Papers thrown out in a basket and
How much nonsense exists in a sigh
How primitive is
Man at first rising in the early morning light
Celestine is the color of the sky today
And she smiles at the scent of coffee
Poured in a ceramic brown cup that steams vaporously
Today I am no longer attracted by the
Chasing after of a dream
For those who want it
They can go and get it
Today I am alone with my thoughts
In my silence
I have no worries
I am convinced that life is sincere
That death is accepted
It becomes a tiny sapling
that plants its little roots
then from the stems
buds soon grow
with leaves and little shoots
As time goes by a petal forms
that’s just how nature grows
before too long that little bud
evolves into a rose
I can’t hold you anymore
as the sun is a kidnapper,
a tormentor, who tears you apart