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A Thief in the Country
They keep them hidden Within those rolling hills Their dirty little things That not even the hoarding Claws of Magpies will touch
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- 1556 reads
At Eternity's Gate
In a pool Of sweat and dark memories A lone swimmer Carves out lengths On the quivering surface
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- 12 comments
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- 2682 reads
Cigarette
It is the smell that takes you first, That gentle odour of dry tobacco, That whispers into the air And tiptoes into your nose,
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- 1571 reads
Angels write in poetry, Demons write in prose
As I lie beneath the blanket Of a heavy Devon sky That has breached its secret contract With the local weatherman And begun to bleed
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- 2014 reads
Apollo in his cottons
His imagination was crushed to a pulp, Between the pages of a GCSE maths book, And his eyes were dug out of his face, By lines and lines of twisting jargon,
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- 13 comments
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- 3065 reads