 |
THE TROUTIn the quiet stealth of a new born day
wet nettles neck high grip and sting
One thought, one mission, he makes his way
to enter comb..
|
 |
In
silent sweeps the white plume weeps
It's
tears in words of inky black.
Each
parchment page, a stage, where plays
are
writ and formed,..
|
 |
WIMBLEDON AGAIN.
|
 |
I like Trains,Not the big dirty ones that smell like drains.No, I like model trains. I'm a 64 year old kid, who's really failed to grow,Got quite a g..
|
 |
The lost Gunner.
The engines drone through
shrapnel cracked skies, sharp shards and shattered glass.
Through torn flesh and
burning, no th..
|
 |
WRITTEN AS A TRIBUTE TO BRAVE 90 YEAR OLD LADY I MET THIS MORNING. 28/09/2014
|
 |
TIME
WAS
In
sadness I stand and stare
Lost
broken dreams and garden bare
No
joyful colour in my eyes
To
mask away the hurt an..
|
 |
MY BROTHER NICK
When we were young we played guitars, my
brothers, Gary, Nick and me,
Up in our room we'd twang away 'till it
was time for..
|
 |
AS WE AGE OUR MEMORIES CAN BE A SOURCE OF COMFORT AND SECURITY.
|
 |
Marie wrote " not sure what a Chaffinch is"
This was a typical Marie statement. We shall all miss her.
|
|
|
first
prev
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This