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On The Lonely Streets Of Bundanoon

Song / Poem about living with a memory in a lonely town

"Hallowed Halls"

"Hallowed Halls"
As I walk these hallowed halls; I begin to wonder about the past.
As room by room is passed; a hard feeling of loneliness sweeps over me.

"Hallowed Halls"

"Hallowed Halls"
As I walk these hallowed halls; I begin to wonder about the past.
As room by room is passed; a hard feeling of loneliness sweeps over me.

TIGER TIGER FRIDAY NIGHT

A tale of the High Street most weekends.
With Apologies to William Blake.

The Girl Who Spoke Like Thunder

The story of how justice and righting wrongs do happen when we least expect

Cherry

Desperation, Longing and Desires (part V)

I should wish only for a darker night
than the last
so as we are covered
blind and invisible
to make our perfect escape.

Operation March Hare

The Department is located in Whitehall, approximately six floors below ground level, in a sprawling maze of corridors known as the Rabbit Warren.

Check Mate

A game of chess twixt black and white
Thrust and repost left and right.
A pawn is sacrificed to the knight.
The bishop moves two to the right
Backed up by the queen a frightful sight.

STUCK

STUCK

Constrained by the un seen power
Locked away hour upon hour
Reaching out for help with every pour
Demanding more, more and more

Knowing not which way to turn for the best

The Goodbye Boy (story)

He went to John's house. They had so much racing each other at the park. John was a good baseball pitcher too. No luck. No one home. How come?

The Branch Library

And then in charge we have little Miss Stoop.........

Gold cherry

Hippolyta Defeated (re-post)

actually Hippolyta Regained...

Cherry

Ex - Daniel and the terrible demise of Mrs Fynes.

It did provide Daniel with a sense that life was and would continue to be a shit storm for which he had no umbrella.

Princess

A beautiful rainbow reached down from the heavens to touch the ancient monument.

Ward 71

Close packed like lumber
they lie,
Each bed a fairground car

The Legend Of Myself

Thunder gods grow older; their lightning bolts grow dim.
My father towered over me; now I’m taller than him.
Now time has turned him from a god into a wizened elf

On the Buses (My version)

Before I get going I would like to point out that it was the lovely Linda Wigzell Cress who got me into this.

Cherry

Winterchill

cheek to cheek we admire
the gentleness
of Autumn’s blanket

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