Yeats (Remove filter)
That Tennyson
“That fucking Tennyson.”
I caught myself muttering
as I walked along. “Yes,
that fucking Tennyson,
he can organise a sunset
and flake gold better than I can:
and Emily Dickinson,
with her yellow children
at the bars of a gate
closed by her sodding dominie in grey.
And Yeats! That fucking Yeats
wags an ageing tongue at creation
and leaves me ...
Sunday 12th February 2017 10:39 am
Recent Comments
Stephen Gospage on Evan Tyler
2 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on The End of His Tether
7 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on One Tear at a Time
13 minutes ago
David RL Moore on A Life in the Day
1 hour ago
Tom Doolan on St George’s Day
2 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on St George’s Day
2 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on SPIKE-LIKE
9 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Grey daze
9 hours ago
Nigel Astell on Happy Hours for the Edgeley Faithful Extended
11 hours ago
Steve White on A Life in the Day
13 hours ago