poetjude
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| Type | Title | Author | Replies | Last updated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Forum topic | What it is to be a Good Person. | Anonymous | 36 | 20 years 9 months ago |
| Forum topic | Stephen Fry on Modern Poetry: A grumpy posh man or does he have a point? | markbrown | 30 | 20 years 9 months ago |
| Forum topic | Have a lot of people left, or have they got new names on the forum? | flash | 25 | 20 years 9 months ago |
| Forum topic | Perfect Day | fergal | 12 | 20 years 9 months ago |
| Forum topic | teaching | fergal | 12 | 20 years 9 months ago |
| Forum topic | A publisher's view of undiscovered talent | markbrown | 37 | 20 years 10 months ago |
| Forum topic | The best book in the world that only you've read... | markbrown | 9 | 20 years 10 months ago |
| Forum topic | Norman Stanley Fletcher | hox | 6 | 20 years 10 months ago |
| Forum topic | thread for being terribly clever ... | ivoryfishbone | 20 | 20 years 10 months ago |
| Forum topic | Birthday greetings. | mississippi | 16 | 20 years 10 months ago |
| Forum topic | Oh Holy Night by Fergal | mykle | 19 | 20 years 10 months ago |
| Forum topic | Owen Money | ely_whitley | 21 | 20 years 11 months ago |
| Forum topic | Cover to Cover by Liana | xyz | 3 | 20 years 11 months ago |
| Forum topic | From There To Here by Tom Saunders | neilmc | 3 | 20 years 11 months ago |
| Forum topic | Jude's recent writing | tcook | 3 | 20 years 11 months ago |
My stories
Glastonbury 2002
Festival Review
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- 1747 reads
Veni Sancte Spiritus
The tabernacle lies empty as loveloss on a Sunday morning. Mourning now I kneel behind thronged voices. Choices in life but not in death
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- 1737 reads
Fallen
In darkness I go roving All night I never sleep. Roaming through the suburbs Into blackness deep. Way out along the towpath The drab night never ends...
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- 1704 reads
If I were truly alive
If I were truly alive, then these good dreams of bad things wouldn't jolt me awake through the night Or worse still - aware that i dream escape is...
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- 1616 reads
Our Hellvellyn
You Lead us through the softest slopes Where free birds soared above in mists retreating as the morning dew was gently dried by sun.
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- 1821 reads