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' Postcards from Pimlico' Taster

Nearly thirty years have passed since Ben walked up the steps to a sleazy flat in West Kensington, thirty years since he saw the other two members of the ‘Pimlico Posse.’

PETICOTAL DOMINATIS (Part Five)

He woke up in a sweat, gasping for breath, his heart going nineteen-to-the-dozen.

The Enginemen, Chapter 14

George begins to put his life back together, but James Peplow is falling apart, now that has precious engine has been retired for scrap.

Haunted Inheritance

Visitors to a house who never leave.

THE BARDS TALE

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Cherry

Billy five donkeys and the red fandango continued

Those of you that have been to Billy's house may have left a little disturbed.
Read on all will be revealed.

next instalment sunday 12th November

Absalom

Rusted curled,
Yet... not forgotten.
A part of God's Eternal plan.
Here now and forever;
Not misbegotten
A shard of beauty,
From a delicate hand.
Golden yellow,
Rustic red,
Veined rich

Cherry

I wish I believed in aliens

I wish I didn't find it so implausible that a spaceship could land beside me
on Brighton beach

Cherry

The Apocalypse

That's why I've been walking up and down the road
wearing my The End is Nigh sandwich board

Cherry

Fish and Chips

'...no fish were harmed in the writing of this story...'

Riot Children

For grandparents who fought in wars
For streets you’ve bombed
Due to engine failure
Problems with the propeller.

Unstable cargo
For a nation of young soldiers
Importing and exporting

Xantippe (Pleiades Form)

Xantippe

(Pleiades Form)

P K Routray

P Gaan

Xantippe I am married to, as ill-luck would have it,

X-rays she my gestures and postures to pick up a thread to quarrel and quit.

A Study Of Time

A poem for the Masters of Society.

Woman (Pleiades Form)

Woman

(Pleiades Form)

P K Routray

P Gaan

Woman has different roles in life as a grandmother, a mother, a sister, a friend, a wife and a daughter

VALENTINE (Pleiades Form)

VALENTINE

(Pleiades Form)

P Gaan

P K Routray

Vexed became my valentine at my whisper,

Valiantly she told me I am a great bore.

Very very sensitive is she to my sweet nothing,

Dearest Misery (part V)

A series of poems written to my Dearest Misery. This was written in Egypt where the winter is long and warm.

Our Sweet Death

A poem for a woman I knew in Paris who lived in a bath and consumed nothing but grapefruits and heroin. She moved to Libya; I suppose she died there.

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