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One Hundred Days In Plague Town

One Hundred Days In Plague Town

 

I met a man in Plague Town

With bird’s beak and a long black coat

He carried a cane in his left hand

He spoke to me and I quote:
‘Don’t travel far from your fire son

Go runaway and hide

For Fear stalks the streets of Plague Town

Some are ill and others have died’

 

So I went back home as he told me

And I sat and counted the days

...

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day100. covid-19writing100 poems in 100 dayspoetry writingpassing timemuseongoing

Magyk

Magyk

 

I had a book all full of spells

Where childhood magic

Weaved its way

Between the yellowed pages

 

Where dragon’s breath

Set woodland glades alight

And lost children danced

With the frightened and the fey

 

The teeth of angry wolves

Chewed at the edges

Whilst chattering little demons

Clawed along your spine

 

Strange apples fell from wizene...

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Janus

Janus

 

When we were young

we raged against the storm

biting at our hormones,

engulfing our senses

and our sensibilities.

 

The deep penetrating

oxblood on our

Doctor Martin boots

polished

to an indignant sheen.

 

Pre-conditioner hair,

split ends and acne,

Shredded Wheat moustache.

A groove worn on the chin

by pondering fingers.

 

Myopic ...

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agebeginningcontinuingideaspassionwritingyouth

In The Beginning

~~In The Beginning

leaving marks
that’s all we’re doing
leaving marks

daubed on cave walls
scratched on parchment
prodded into submission
on a plastic keyboard

blood ink
drying
becoming permanent

or
crossed through
with a graphite swipe
erased by rubber
white paint
lost

ideas and musings
bold statements
of intent
waxing lyrical
outpourings
of joy
of hate
of love
...

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beginningsentiencystory tellingwordswriterswriting

Waiting For Miss Write

Waiting For Miss Write.

 

“I like you”, I said,

without the need for thumbs pointing to the sky.

She smiled, a beautiful smile.

Her face unlike a circle with U lips.

 

We parted on a kiss

that had nothing to do with sex or X.

Promising that we’d talk again

later in the week.

 

The phone box on the corner

wasn’t mobile - so I was.

I walked ...

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love letteranti-technologywritingsuspenseletterboxthe way we were

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