the wild (Remove filter)
Wilderness
Magic spun
that long weekend in the sun
Walled in by barking mad
singing
swinging
hip-hop slinging
fairy lighted
sprightly spun
oak aged treetop conductors of fun.
The grass we lay upon
be our blanket
The songs we sung
Need no rhythm. Rhyme nor reason
As rules are broken
and hedonism reigns all.
Tranquil, serene, only to be seen by eyes who wish ...
Sunday 14th September 2014 7:57 pm
Recent Comments
Philip Stevens on This Imaginary Life-Part 3 (Nature)
3 hours ago
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: I Watched the Trains Come, I Watched the Trains Go
10 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
15 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
1 day ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago