Poetry Blog by Hannah Collins
Gina my cousin
She was the type who would never die
Had always been there,
All grown up when I was still a child.
Laughing, teasing, bringing me toys and sweeties,
Flirting with my daddy
Taking his arm as he walked her to the station.
She would burst in every Saturday
Her voice like sunflowers and daffodils,
Smelling like oranges and strawberries,
The way they do...
Friday 15th November 2019 8:26 pm
He could be from anywhere
And it is difficult to place him.
It could be London, Ohio, Berlin.
He could be from any era or any age,
For he is ageless and timeless.
He is noted for his youth and optimism
Because 'though he must march into the fields of fury,
He is basically good natured and cheerful.
He is wrapped around with the invincibility of being young,
Rooted in th...
Friday 8th November 2019 6:58 pm
Who will be there,
Asks the elderly lady,
The one with crevices in her skin
And the sad haunted eyes.
Who will be there when all these antique people have died ?
When age and time has taken every witness.
The Princes who visit,
They're heady on the atmosphere,
Standing by a grave,
In the fullness of the solemn gales,
Treading on the ground where it all happened, for ...
Sunday 13th October 2019 6:49 pm