angel (Remove filter)
What Angels?
what angels they?
they that always seem
to be looking
the other way
while in absentia
those robed in blight
and grey
of beak pick the bones of
our grief
genuflecting promises
on the never-never
of a day
after tomorrow that none
will ever see
what angels they?
they that can no longer
play
Sunday 16th December 2012 2:13 am
Recent Comments
Philip Stevens on This Imaginary Life-Part 3 (Nature)
1 hour ago
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: You Watched the Trains Come, You Watched the Trains Go
8 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
13 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
1 day ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago