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grumpy
Grumpy class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"> class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt">i don't know my hip hop from my r&;amp;...
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- 1475 reads
Wide-eyes for Lincoln
Hello Wide-eyes, Is the experience that pours in, what you expected, dreamt and learnt about, what you wrote to world leaders for? The oneiric not...
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- 640 reads
Q - BLOSSOM BABYSTABBER
What do you do on those days when you say 'Yes' but really mean 'Go to hell'? For the lovely 'Blossom', keep on doing it! x
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- 871 reads
Travelling by Mucktub
Love, wheelbarrows and silk Knickers
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- 580 reads
Take me away
a poem about the things in life
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- 764 reads
Evening
Evening Evening is the time of fading, The time of wistfulness; Eternal and transient. It is the quiet sound of
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- 713 reads
Mitteleuropa
Set in Prague encapsulating the new eastern europe.
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- 452 reads
These eyes
These eyes have seen, These eyes have cried, These eyed have told, These eyes have lied, These eyes, my eyes, have seen your eyes, Those eyes, your eyes, will realise, That in my eyes there lies the prize,
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- 791 reads
bare my soul
life - a savage hunt for a visible soul
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- 331 reads
For my flower from the gutter
I clean you, wash your feet, Caress your bruises and aching bones, With turpentine kisses. They burn the wounds, leaving scars, Pain is rememberence, The promise that you will never forget me.
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- 796 reads
Quit
Giving up, giving in, Today it happened, I swallowed the inevitable, Hook, line and sinker, I sampled the forbidden fruit, The indescribable sweetness of the prize,
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- 776 reads
absent
how many couples have walked past this tired feather this fag end this sand caked seaweed Without noticing the tiny, pink shrimp curled dead one leg...
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- 402 reads
about contact
Rolled up a tune somewhere, That dignified hum we turned on As we left the room On our way out Sometimes we curl up in a corner Forget what we said...
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- 375 reads
Inside your school bag
This is just to say I breathed you in last night even after you had left.
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- 553 reads
Summerhouse window
This is just to say I wouldn't build a summerhouse out of dead roses, as you suggested, because it would fall down around me, even in other seasons.
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- 571 reads
IN A QUIET PLACE
A HAUNTING LIFE CHANGING LEGACY
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- 649 reads
Approaching Sundown
Do we really see what we think we see, or does our imagination play with us?
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- 1386 reads
Why Wendy was late
An imaginative child
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- 721 reads