landlocked blues (Remove filter)
By Pessall Brook
The remnants of a myth
torn like sodden paper
A worker in the world of words
now where are your opus lines
where does your gilded poetry reside
A hooded figure
cloaked by Pessall Brook
looking for lighthouses
searching for the sea
O, how did you go
this far wrong?
Show me your pages
blackened with rhymes
your songs of tides
and ships to far away islands
Thunder clapping above
r...
Wednesday 11th December 2024 1:45 pm
Recent Comments
Red Brick Keshner on upon a shot that lit the roof alight; June 29, 1613
22 seconds ago
Robert Mann on November Heart (Updated)
2 hours ago
Rolph David on Máxima's Royal Mock
9 hours ago
Telboy on Dog Walkers
10 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on rusted edges, burning gears
14 hours ago
Ray Miller on rusted edges, burning gears
14 hours ago
Ray Miller on To Thine Own Flame
14 hours ago
Ray Miller on America
14 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on I Learn And Study English
15 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Another Word
15 hours ago