Migration (Remove filter)
The Last Supper
They munch at scraps of bread
And gulp their meagre drink;
They borrow someone’s phone
To make one final call,
Then scrape up what he asks
To squeeze into the boat
And shiver as the sea
Sets out its fearsome stall.
Wednesday 2nd October 2024 5:19 pm
Recent Comments
Red Brick Keshner on for the Unbroken
3 hours ago
Trevor Alexander on Favorite Poet
7 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Just Smile!
9 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Just Smile!
9 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Start Monday
11 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on When Tyrants Fall
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The 'Perfect Son'
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
12 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Poem Of Life
14 hours ago