stubble (Remove filter)
Winter Town
This is my vision of a certain cast of English village (not so much in springtime).
Winter Town
March winds stir listless eddies,
fluke in tired gusts over thin pools,
flare through fields of stubble
then flag, exhausted, sour and wheezing
from the blowing day;
coughing, rubbing arthritic fingers,
cold as a church bell sounds the hours.
Spring will be late this...
Saturday 23rd December 2017 3:13 am
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Prince of Darkness, Dreamer True
6 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Girlhood
10 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Average
23 minutes ago
Rolph David on Prince of Darkness, Dreamer True
31 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Receding ties
36 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Lines In The Dirt
42 minutes ago
Rolph David on Average
58 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Luimneach [Faoi PrÃomh-Aire na Breataine]
1 hour ago
Rolph David on Do Not Read This
1 hour ago
New Shoes on Do Not Read This
2 hours ago