This story is, not to scare you, but to warn you that you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover...
This story is, not to scare you, but to warn you that you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover...
Two souls, one young one old,
Both to the hands of misery were sold.
Both raining tears like a storm,
And an opera of sorrow they perform.
Two souls, one falling to its doom,
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I watched as the waves crashed against the rocks.
It was blazing hot.
I closed my eyes and pictured cold skies,
snow as it melted on my hands.
I opened my eyes.
while I am pacing down the lanes of the city
I see many people, looking at me strangely
with a sight, ensuing in front of my body
I look around to relieve my itching anxiety,
About an old oak tree.Not one of my better poems.
About the darkness of an alleyway.
The footballer Fernando Torres - I am not an Liverpool FC fan, but admire Torres immensely.
The Battle of Bryn Derwin, near Terfynau, North Wales, marked the start of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd`s rapid and fateful ascent to supremacy in native Wales
A more traditional retelling of the death of Arthur - using welsh mythology, possible history and weaving in some of the more romantic themes from later on.
Hurts are harboured until a time when they set to sea and capsized .
A really rough piece of writing. This is the piece I submitted, and was accepted on, to the UEA Creative Writing BA. A degree of seriousness is hard to pull off, when you are a joke.
We are nevr alone in this journey through life .
Leaders of men, I query what motives they have.This poem came from watching a documentary
which provoked an interest in the guy who orderedt he terracotta army.
He was using extra care no longer talking just to me his only whistle
Told me many things
Labradear concerns an apocalypse. Will man manage to regain power in a world spinning towards a different existence.