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Mamihlapinatapai



In the wanting, in the waiting, in the never that comes between
Distances rolls like waves between us
 Pulling us closes and drawing us apart.

Words cramp in my mouth, my tongue thickens
If, if, if, want, want, want, need, need, need.
You cannot hear me, I cannot speak
 
In the head
 A thousands scenes play out
Hand touching hand
Minds reach out
And twine
Leanin...

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Also by kayberley:

Promises, Promises | Save your energy |

Dementia

Had another go at last verses

“Despite their dementia  they do remember well that they have a family that is never here for them. They call their names into emptiness, and cry at the thought of abandon .” a comment from BBC website

Dementia

 

I cried and sucked their teats. They drew a face on me

 in their own image, one I never asked for,

constructed a smile and ears to...

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Also by Nick Coleman:

The Schoolmistress | Ethnic Cleansing |

May

The autumn leaves an ill-defined unease
that (while the summer flourished) I’d ignored.
The litany begins. We can’t afford
the oil we need to buy before the freeze;
they’ve forecast snow: we need to fix the tiles
that blew away before the summer came,
fit plastic shrouds on every window-frame;
there isn’t any salt in stock for miles.
       Yet soon I’ll wake, and March will fal...

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Also by Marnanel Thurman:

On not being a cat | Blood, bones and feathers | In depths of darkness out of doors | This is the poem | A love song | Examination | Attention | On first looking into an A to Z |

THAT THIRD ONE

That third being between us. Like a mutual shadow.
Awakes us from sleep with a gentle touch of light, a breath of reality.
Bites us, when we’re too sluggish; dances around us, when we embrace each other.
We get lost in the wilderness of its fur, like children, pugnacious, fussy and nosy…
That third, Being between us.
Sometimes like a tender cloud, surrounds us with petals of silence;
...

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On stolen sheets

 

I washed her

from my pillow-slips.

 

In a white plastic bucket

I soaked away her body's breath,

and with bleach removed

the evidence she had  left.

 

We snatched the time

to make our marks

with sweat and 

firm commitments.

 

The stains on stolen sheets

proved easier to erase

than those she ground into

the fabric of my room,

...

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

She lies sleeping |

You Won't Batter Anymore

(Much as I am reluctant to tamper with The Master.....)

 

 

There you go and, Baby, here am I

Well, you left me here with all this fish to fry

I’ve thawed this cod and now you’ve quit your job

And you won’t batter anymore.

 

You bastard, Trish! So now you’ve got your wish

You left me here with all this fucking fish

There’s no flour dips so all we got is c...

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Also by John Coopey:

Their Finest Hour | Kushagarnie 2 | Ikea | Live and Let Live | I Got Ewe Babe | Metre | Mammaries Are Made Of This | Gorgonzola | My Dad | There's Allus a Dribble That's Left |

Statto of the Railway Lines

Train spotters love trains, tracks, stations, sidings,

Steep cuttings, mortar, stony spaces.

Straining to observe the woosh and swoosh,

Chatter and clatter of carriage and truck

And engine names.

 

Buddleias spring from bridge and brick,

Colouring impossible places,

Stattoes of the railway network:

“The nine-forty to Liverpool is late,

Leaves on the line....

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Also by jane wilcock:

Insane Poppy |

What is love?

What is love?

 

Fills the emptiness

Breaks the wave

Turns the head

Twists the fate

Destroys the expected

Shapes the form

Spoils the beauty

A silent call

Rouses the sleeping

Leadens the heart

Haunts my spirit

When we are apart

 

© Katy Hughes 2012

 

 

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Also by Katy Megan:

The Oak Tree | Secret | Hatton Locks | The ending that started the beginning... |

love

UNCTION

UNCTION

 

You live your life, you take the blows,
Its deepest wound the blackened bruise
Where sometime roads would trail desire,
And lead down ways we would not choose.

 

God knows I’ve sought the sheltered glade,
Where summer breezes always blow,
But oft I walked the rock strewn path,
And found that place we should not go.

 

I find with age some restful cal...

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Also by Ian Gant:

CARRION SPRING |

Whisker

                                                   WHISKER

 

A whisker on the window sill

Means feline’s been around.

She didn’t leave her pawprints,

She never made a sound.

 

But I know that she’s been there,

The evidence there still:

A little, wispy filament

Upon the window sill.

 

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Also by Yvonne Brunton:

Cecil the Saint | WOL Prize Received | The Newberry Dye-Pass Crossing AKA The Rules Of The Road. | A Cup | Spring in the High Peak | Kushagarnie | (untitled) | inFLUence |

cats

Friend List

 

The most difficult part of moving back to

the area where you grew up are

the people you bump into

 

who you haven’t seen for years.

Mainly, it’s people who attended

school with you, but occasionally

it’s a family member or an ex, and

 

they’re the ones that stagger you.

After saying a flustered

hello, the first and most obvious

questions are...

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poetry

Natalie. Natalie and Nick

 

Natalie. Natalie and Nick

I forgive you Ruth for hurting me. Now I must move on and go far away from you. I’m getting married to my warrior friend. Please don’t be mad with me. I think you’d approve and like Natalie. She loves gothic music and even has a band called Mayo, never mind her tattoos and love of flying. Like you, she speaks to me in my dreams. Unlike you, she won’t ever hur...

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Also by NICK ARMBRISTER:

NOT PAYING | WHAT I SEE | Sunny 8 | Happy | GIRL | OUCH! | AN UNFORTUNATE DEATH | MY CARS | My Blade, My Life (by Mel) | FORD ESCORT | HEADY RUSH | Natalie. Politico (from my new series of Natalie poems) | SHE HAS THE ANSWERS |

natalie and nickmalvinas and falklandsargentina and englandpeaceloveno war

Kids With Drugs-2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kids with drugs,

it's like their

being ripped apart

by blades of a knife.

 

They slowly die

from their wounds.

Their souls drain

like blood from

torn vessels.

 

Their lives end.

Maybe not today

maybe not tomorrow,

but they eventually do.

Do we even try

to make it stop?

 

Just ...

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Also by Shirley Smothers:

The Sea | Kids With Drugs |

drugskidsknives

Scanner Soap

Honey, what time do you think you’ll be in?

I want to get to you before the gossip does.

Don’t worry -  I love you.

                                …                                           

Ruth, I’m going to be delayed.

I have to stay late – extra work.

I’m really sorry.

                OK, Honey. I’ll see you when I see you.

                Keep it warm.

...

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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Chatting With Ari |

conversations overheard ship to shore

Tweet, Tweet.

 

I've transformated, morphasised,

I've bent, reformed, aligned.

Embraced and moulded with some zeal;

included and combined.

So now I'm out there, chick at large,

pouring forth my thoughts;

compelled to brief to unknown screens,

providing my reports.

When snuggled in my rain-soaked nest.

When waiting for my tea.

When just about to fly the nest,

th...

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

Worms and Cheese | Things aren't always what they seem to be. | Suspicions confirmed |

Bible Bashing

His deeds fortold her future.

His absence etched upon her soul,

His genes that were her makeup

were a mystery to unfold.

His life acting out his mothers belief,

On a mission to impossible

Living inside the words of the 'pious book'

A martyr to the incredible.....

 

Every night on bended knee,

Repenting all his sins......

He'd remorsely ask forgiveness...

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jeffarama andy nicholson stella jones steve mellor

Easington Colliery

They strain towards the light.

Blinded by a death

in black and white.

Stood in a puddle of water

its darkness climbing legs

like sweet peas.

Tickling those hardened

by the tenebrous earth.                                                         Photograph by Keith Pattison

Leaching tears since ’51.

                                                             ...

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coal mining

It's the Music that Matters!! - A Poem For Sophie Lancaster - Never Forget X

It’s the Music That Matters!

 

The Metalhead strums his air guitar

The Indian man sings while playing his sitar

It’s not the colour of his skin

- It’s the music that matters!

 

Panpipes in the mountains

Music in the fountains

It doesn’t matter where it is

- It’s the music that matters!

 

Synthesisers and Electropop

Strut your stuff and bop till you drop

Da...

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Musictribute

Close to Home

See www.prolebooks.co.uk

 

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A Local History Facebook Group

Does anyone know why 17 Borrowdale Road is missing?

Every day I walk past the empty space

and wonder why it’s not there.

 

No. 13 is missing as well but I suppose that’s just unlucky.

 

My husband was born in no. 48 in 1944.

He says there never was a house there;

the plot of land was used as an allotment,

probably to aid the war effort.

 

I lived at 3...

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no title

words

colours

          tearing together

                                                                                                       across the page

and the

           painting writing

are as

       a sound

           of

a brush

          or pen

          and out

               of

colours

 words

worlds

collide

      ...

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Also by Glyn Pope:

Music | The King Of Thorns |

Flippance is a Goodbye Song

 

                                                  Flippance is a Goodbye Song

 

 

Flippance is a goodbye song,

It comes with the yeah yeah yeah’s,

The no no no’s and,

‘Good luck with that,’ they say!

 

     What it actually means is;

I don’t care for you, your opinions

And angle on life,

For it’s too sore a point of controversy,

Too much the...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Beam | We All Could Be Planets | The Phenomena of Life | Soldier, Sailor...........Late Night Experimental Dub Mix! |

I don't write poems

 

I don’t write poems,

I drink them like wine,

I become tipsy

with each coming line.

 

I don’t write poems,

I breathe them like air,

I become so happy

when each one I share.

 

I don’t write poems,

I live with them;

they prolong my years,

they are as true as I am.

 

I don’t write poems,

I weave into verses

sadness, joy, tea...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

For Whom To Fish Or Hunt | May be it's a sin... | God Save You! | I Am a Lady | Virtual Life | The Day Of Liberation | Palm Sunday | Poets Souls | My Only Love |

poetry

Save £2 on my book - 'Your Sax Is On Fire'

My book - 'Your Sax Is On Fire' is now an incredible £3.99 when you type SAFIRE into the discount code box on

http://www.troubador.co.uk/book_info.asp?bookid=1594

Read and leave comments (0)

poetryhumoursatirecomedy

Pyjama Nimble

For clemency, I lie you at the end of my bed –

rest, and keep the flight of my wrecked dreams at bay - 

this is your sleep,

a seam of undisturbed silk.

 

I’ll take my psychiatry with the fluorescence of the day,

there is no hurried rivulet for you to claim,

calm though you are, in the pest, be calmer still in my absence.

 

The draw of each hour wil...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Thoughts | Inception | Dose | Spores | Brighton Marathon Donations | Saint to Starve |

Our day out

Between kicking a ball and vandalizing boredom, I swung around lamp posts

and mouthed my maisonette backdrop around the block.

I would burn spiders with a magnifying glass, a clear conscience, and a smile.

 

But in a few years - the estate molding me would be bulldozed,

thought so bad by Thatcher’s Britain, to not be fit

for the working class. An irony mocked

by the ...

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Also by Chris Co:

ThePoetry Spoke- April and your poetry- with Guests Kevin McMahon, Yarbo and Laura James | Wirral Ode Show Open Mic- Thursday- NEW VENUE |

Funeral

 

Filled with heavy silence

The clouds went on, shaking their sieve

Adding to a sour day all around.


All purpose was missing,

On a weekday torn from routine.


The depressed bodies

Mooned like tourists

Amongst the trestle tables,

Eating to keep from talking,

Black jackets wet with an odor of mold.


I sat watching out the window

Where the clouds...

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Also by Tom Harding:

Sunday Evening | Jury Duty | We Were Not Serious People | Titles, Another Life | Office Poem 1 |

Devotion

 

So many years we’ve been together now,

There never was another one for me.

Beneath bright stars, your key set my heart free,

To love you always was my whispered vow.

Aged just eighteen we had a lot to learn,

We learnt together, made mistakes and how,

Our love survived and flourished so we now

Find blissful heights as passion lasts to burn.

A sweet contentme...

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Also by Lynn Dye:

Live And Let Live? | Seeing Through The Rain | Double Dealings | World War II by Hannah (My 9 year old granddaughter is published!) |

SAILING DAYS

For Jack Lytton - brother-in-law - who has just signed off this life to chart the great unknown.

.............................................................................

It's the tang of the spray

On a bright summer's day

When you're carried along by the breeze.

It's the bite of the wind

When your face feels skinned,

Salted by cold winter seas.

 

It's th...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:

NELSON WAS A NORFOLK BOY | LIVE AND LET DYE - A cyclist's riposte to dear Lynn Dye | THE BEST AND WORST OF THINGS | BROTHERS | RENEWAL - some thoughts at Easter | KEEPING WATCH | FREEHOLD OR VACANT | HAWK |

REVIEW - WOL 'Ring of Bells' Middleton

For all of those trembling on the brink, all wannabe poetry performers, as yet uninitiated and still afraid to stand-up on an open mike night, WOL Middleton night at the Ring of Bells is just up your street.

I was last to climb the ladder of a  steep staircase to the cosy room upstairs  at Middleton’s Ring of bells, I was warmly  welcomed by  the words of our  compare  Gemma ,( I’m pregnant...

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Also by Gus Jonsson:

The Stolen Smile | Into The Light |

The blend of old and new

Although what we do today feels routine,

a rhythmic activity which can seem mundane,

I still remember the very first time,

that whirl of surprise, then joy ... satisfaction.

I know back then it wasn't with you,

but a chance encounter, a sweet interlude,

a spiral I  held in my hand for a moment,

a love to be savoured, and longingly pursued,

for the sense of arriva...

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Also by Alison Smiles:

Breasts | Moonshine | Flirtation |

Day 1

And so you'll never see me
as I see myself.
That doesn't worry me.
We have Spain and enough excitement to
to take our minds off cold nights
and over priced spoiled wines.

Your hands are two foreign explorers
excited enough to travel
-without complaint-
the country of my skin,
from earlobe to navel
I feel like half a man
under the microscope of your curious fingers.

...

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promised poem for Kathy after the party

(Lines for the lady medic)

 

You`ll laugh and say, `That poets in a plight`

That, `He`ll remember nothing` or maybe fret,

That `being three parts drunken on the night

`the things he said were anyway all lies`

 

But, love, could I forget,

How the laughter, capering with the light,

Danced wild Antrim-antics in your eyes?

Or that your voice had in it, when y...

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Fishing For Fella's

Fishing for Fella's



Scope out the field,
locate your target,
make your move
on a true bargain.

Set out the bait,
irresistible flesh;
the walking wriggle
for victim's interst.

Cast out the line,
straight to the point;
with charming smile,
in seductive voice.

Grow the pole, out
on the pull,
must be a big'un
down below.

Reel him in,
close and...

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Also by Phillip Kelly:

BREAK-DOWN a BREAK-UP |

The Hypocrites Vow

If you spent half the time you do

In trying to deceive me

Then I could tell you half a lie

And you would half believe me.

Read and leave comments (3)

Trev's TexasTour 2012 (Galveston to Corpus Christi)

7.4.12

Image: Hugh and 'best friend' Charlie

 

48) I'd taken my first pictureof an alligator,

Spoonbill and black vulture would come later

Coming from Brazoria Park and driving with care,

I noticed a light on the dashboard that shouldn't be there

It let me know, tyre pressure was low

Soon it was fine, I used a gas station air line

But it was in vain cos later...

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Also by Trev the Road Poet:

Trev's Texas Tour 2012 (Austin to Galveston) | Trev's texas Tour 2012 (Austin) | Trev's Texas Tour 2012 (The journey out) |

Analysing Trust

Catch the spinning prisms of my mind

So that away on a wing we can go to find,

The truth that few may know or admit

That it is better to be hurt by honesty than deceit.

 

For of all the sounds we make

And of all the words we speak,

Or of all the notes we cue

Few come tomorrow, will still ring true.

 

Every promise you receive

Every emotion you perceiv...

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We're gonna miss that cat

 

Today Bella died

And yes, both of us cried

‘Though we know so much is sadder than that.

Still she was a good friend,

Dignified ‘til the end

And now, we‘re gonna miss that cat.

 

She’d warmed both our feet

Would be waiting to greet

And before you could lay down your hat,

You’d hear that great purr

Feel the rub of her fur,

Oh how we’re gonna m...

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petscatselergyloss

JUST LIKE YOU

We don't see in black and white

our heart shaped specks

whisper glitter through our minds

 

We feed promises to chocolate buttons

and elongate innocence like liquorice laces.

strawberry naivety coiled on our tongues

 

Hiding in makeshift tents

building safety from Lego

We know the cost of

unstable ground

 

Hearing music in every sound

we d...

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Old Money (Fete Day at the Old People's Home)

It's hard for you to sit here and keep

your value.  You are at the mercy

of other people's whims.  'Come on'

says the boss.  'Get these residents outside!'

You look bewildered at his brusque

command, compress your lips as if not

quite ready to be addressed in this

peremptory way.  'It's fete day' I explain.

'We're supposed to go out and spend.'

 

I sell y...

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old ageloss of powerloss of relevance

Spring.

 

Outside, the hawthorn is in bloom

while here the TV spits into my room

faster than bullets, the same old news

that some far-flung corner of a foreign field

is now sown with blood, with shrapnel, and with loss

that it’s worth the sacrifice

worth the cost

and outside, the hawthorn is in bloom.

 

Outside, the hawthorn is in bloom

the willow glows with ...

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Also by steve pottinger:

13th Floor |

A Reimagining

Sonnets are meant to be about romance

and love.

You know? All that's good.

But why should form be contained,

can one not make love to the page

in their own expression?

I can,

and will.

Imagination like a dodgems car,

wild yet bumpy.

And I guess that's what love is,

you can try to steer in the right direction

but there will always be obstacl...

Read and leave comments (0)

Also by Ushiku Crisafulli:

Mornin' On The Desert | Brit-Wres-Fest 2012 - NaPoWriMo Piece | Something's gotten hold of my heart | An Unconventional Marriage | Struggle |

SonnetLovePhilsophyUnderstandingLifeTruthCommunicationCooperationReconciliationNaPoWriMo

OpenMind NEW VENUE/OpenMind: Face the Music Update

On Monday 21st May we’ll be celebrating the wide variety of musical talent in Manchester at NEW VENUE Fuel Bar in Withington with OpenMind: Face the Music II a year on from our first ever live music special. We’ve got a fantastic line up planned with amazing live music from the likes of vocalist Tsareeena Wimbush, acoustic and vocals from Tony Ward, poetry and loops from Martin Christie and poe...

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OpenMindMusicFuelVarietyPoetryVocalistsGuitarKeyboardsAcousticLoops

our bench

 

We used to sit on this bench

waiting for the sun to set

into the sea

like a big red boiled sweet.

 

It changed its shape,

looked like an onion or a pear

slipping so quickly underneath

the waves.

 

The sky stayed blue

so long -

we waited to spot a planet

appearing like the first note in a peal of bells.

The night sky was our dark symp...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

tent | song - nova scotia |

Morbidity and Mortality

The title for this post comes from my time as a scrub nurse and the occasional meetings I had to attend where, among other things, cases that had resulted in deaths were assessed.

 

In Passing.

 

Worn and weathered ornaments adorn these avenues of stone

where plots are plainly tended or ignored and overgrown

and moss obcures the names of those interred in crooked,

...

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State to State (Chants from Walkabouts - 2)

Poem 5 of 230:  STATE TO STATE

(TUNE - IN THE KEY OF C MAJOR:

C2 F2 G2 F3
C2 F2 G2 F3
C2 F2 G2 F3
C2 F2 G2 F3
F2 G2 F2 C3
F2 G2 F2 C3
F2 G2 F2 C3
C2 F2 F2 F3) 

From Sydney Town,
    In uni. break,
I drove south-west
    To earnings make
Onion picking,
    On the fields
Of Echuca,
    That year’s yields.

                                          After day’s work,
        ...

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Also by David Franks: Walkabouts Verse:

Land's End to John o' Groats (Chants from Walkabouts - 3) |

ICON

 

Silhouette of and by Kel C Anne Johnston
http://cargocollective.com/officeofjohnston

ICON

Impressions of you

Travel through me  

Like nerves or electricity

I pause so currents can pass

When the surge is strong

I channel your energy  

Otherwise I’m overwhelmed

And lose control

Your images 

Your words

And memories of intoxicated

Weeks lost in infatu...

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Also by J. Otis Powell‽ (with interrobang):

Present Tense |

AWAKENING

 

A slumberous sense of seclusion
As sleep is drifting from my eyes,
I look upon the translucent shade of the morning dew
While I, moving slowly do arise.
 
Watching the rain dripping from the eaves
Silhouetted in gold from the rising sun,
My mind gradually awakening
Now a new day has begun.
 
Through dimly, dancing dawns first light,
With sound o...

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Inspiration from Bronte Country

Stark white wind-farms now whirl, wuthering

Wild atop High Haworth moor

On fresh snowfall softly covering

Like lambswool, the grassy floor

But as bland blades turn there, hovering

Thoughts spin fast around my brain:

If it is now worthwhile bothering

Writing verse which rings so vain.

 

Are those metal monsters withering

So all inspiration dies?

For as...

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