travellers (Remove filter)
wakes
in the dry grass next to The Bull
once every year the ground would shake
and scream “faster”
while our fingers grew sticky from the company we kept
here to win fish as golden as we wished
the beer
what of the gypsies
what of their king
what of the grave thrice danced around
finished with a pin?
Saturday 22nd February 2014 7:16 pm
Recent Comments
Hélène on FOLLY'S FOOL
1 hour ago
Bethany Sallis on Greg Freeman
3 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Final visit? ( fictional )
3 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on FOLLY'S FOOL
4 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on I Remember Joy
4 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on You Are
5 hours ago
David Franks on Ruined plans in Cannes
7 hours ago
Kelso_Dynamo_On_The_Go on The Universe Dreams
7 hours ago
Tom Doolan on I Remember Joy
8 hours ago
Manish Singh Rajput on You
9 hours ago