Rewrites (Remove filter)
The Boathouse
You once said
that there were swans on the line,
driting in from subservient shores,
arcing in a ring of pearls.
Blood orange orb deflecting now
the attention someplace else.
We sat languidly, in placid mood;
I picked a fight with silence,
let the stone drop in the shallow lake
and waited for the star to burn up
in a crumpled far horizon.
But I only heard a tr...
Friday 26th June 2015 4:48 pm
Recent Comments
Tom Doolan on Hope Is Gone
36 minutes ago
Ray Miller on Thanks For Sharing
42 minutes ago
Landi Cruz on Too late too late
2 hours ago
Robert Mann on Interchangeable Lines.
2 hours ago
Holden Moncrieff on Disowned...
4 hours ago
John Marks on Me mam
5 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
6 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
6 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on veil of the known
7 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on the poet’s barren tale
7 hours ago