Callan Lane Woods

A mist of Hyacinths pool, at the sun lit bases of the ever more consuming hardy forest trees. puddles of water, glistening murcury, reflect it unruffeld surroundings, faithfully,
Cherry

ROT IN HELL YOU WICKED EVIL MAN

Rob the Nob’s an ignorant man Ill educated Illiterate A chancer’s dripping pan The day he fell in lust with a Roman Catholic whore He entrapped her as his prisoner
Cherry

The Little Reader

To Jacob, though he won't see it :)

BLOWING MY OWN TRUMPET

Repository of knowledge I was But it was latent and unused All these decades I thought I was wasted I never acknowledged it Though my immediate family Said it All is not lost

Venus square Neptune

Love's bittersweet delusions and illusions

Wednesday Sonnet: To Italy

There is a vine that binds us, made of rose And olive leaves, and figs and spikes of pine; It is entwined with sunlight, grain and wine, The song that is our language lets it close

missing,mother,dectective; a tryptich

dark poetry,, life poetry, for all the missing people
Cherry

Pastiche

Truth and circumstance.
Cherry

The Coming of Age. May. Part 1.

A holiday in Italy.

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