Poetry Blogs (tudor house)
Last Orders
Last Orders
I come on Thursday, sit on wooden chair
where poets congregate in strange half light,
sharing their thoughts with those who gather there -
the words are spoken, soaring, shining bright,
warming us as we leave to face the night.
The bear pit darkens, but forever hosts
the rhyming, raging, ranting, Tudor ghosts.
Thursday 20th November 2014 7:19 pm
Recent Comments
poemagraphic on Glory (2 minutes ago)
John Coopey on THE NAKED GARDENER (1 hour ago)
M.C. Newberry on THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE (2 hours ago)
M.C. Newberry on the end of an affair (2 hours ago)
M.C. Newberry on A 20:20 Vision (3 hours ago)
M.C. Newberry on City Library (3 hours ago)
M.C. Newberry on THE NAKED GARDENER (3 hours ago)
poemagraphic on THE NAKED GARDENER (3 hours ago)
poemagraphic on The Mad Hatter's Tea Party (4 hours ago)
poemagraphic on A poet's sleepless night (4 hours ago)