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Trains, Rains and Autocorrect | Paul Stephenson
https://paulstep.com/2014/02/20/trains-rains-and-autocorrect
Reviews of Those People. Stephenson pj http:/ www.poetrybusiness.co.uk/shop/897/those-people. Trains, Rains and Autocorrect. February 20, 2014. Or as Browning says at the beginning of ‘Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister’, a poem I have been busy ‘echoing’ with the help of my i-phone, ‘Gr-r-r there go, my heart’s abhorrence! With a ‘pretty please may I just check the internet, it’s for poem research purposes? 8211; you remember how special those Arvon houses are as a complete retreat from all life’s ...
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poetryfrommymind.wordpress.com
Into Dawn | Brave in the face of night; Afraid to face the sunrise.
Brave in the face of night; Afraid to face the sunrise. A Window to My Conscience. To Be Consumed…. Some people know me as the one who says sorry too much. Apologizing for the sake of apologizing, because I’m sorry. But I can’t be the person you want me to be. I can’t be the one that follows you around and makes you feel safe. Because I don’t always feel safe. That’s not to say that I don’t want you to feel safe around me. But I can’t give someone something that I don’t myself have. Fear of someone holdi...
Paul's Poetry
Tuesday, 23 April 2013. I am possessed by a savoury craving. Dominating my every thought, telling. Me to have something salty, or,. Is it spicy – no it’s salty. My concentration has gone from this conversation. As she talks comfortably about the day. My eyes must look like they are walking into. The back of my head searching the pantry. For liberation from this yearning,. But when did I last look in the pantry. And are my eyes vacant? Yesterday was my last foray for food. Her narrative has stopped,.
Poetryfrompoland
Find the best information and most relevant links on all topics related to poetryfrompoland.org.
poetryfromthebackofmyhand.wordpress.com
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poetryfromthedarkside.blogspot.com
PoetryFromTheDarkside
Tuesday, 11 February 2014. A pagan ritual, a midwinter heist. All in the name of Jesus Christ. Part the waters like Jehovah Moses. Or spread the bullshit on your wilting roses. Abraham's children and promised lands. All straw castles built on shifting sands. Holy wars and self-righteous preservation. Two thousand years of ordained decimation. The Jesus ritual, midwinter heist. All for nought with a pagan Christ. Someone part the waters like Jehovah Moses. And show us the miracles of the ancient proses.
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poetryfromtheheartbypollyguerin.blogspot.com
POETRY FROM THE HEART by Polly Guerin
POETRY FROM THE HEART by Polly Guerin. It gives me great pleasure to present Poetry From the Heart by Polly Guerin, a random sampling of over 200 poems I have written to inspire, elevate the spirit and bring joyful renewal to all who read my poems. Monday, July 20, 2015. THE BENCH IN THE FOREST. THE BENCH in the FOREST. WELLS, MAINE July 2015. Wooden steps outline the forest path. The bench in the forest is where I pass. Giant trees give shade from beyond. And nearby frogs frolic in a pond. A tempting de...
POETRY FROM THE LAB
POETRY FROM THE LAB. 12 January, 2017 21:08. January 12, 2017. Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window). Share on Facebook (Opens in new window). Click to print (Opens in new window). Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window). Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window). Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window). January 12, 2017. Publishing comes at the end. And like parting leaves a mark. On the skin and in the memory. Details seem minor and of no effort. And the taste it left.
poetryfromtheloft.wordpress.com
Poetry From The Loft | The poetry of: Garry Ventura.
Poetry From The Loft. The poetry of: Garry Ventura. Good-night, My Dear Friend. August 13, 2015. Poetry from the loft. Another Friday at last? Another day since you passed. Sitting alone once again. Thinking of times we had then. More like a brother, my friend. You’re in my heart, ’til the end. Drinking a beer to the past. Thinking, how long will I last? Laughing with you was the best. Now I must lay down to rest. Good-night, my dear friend, good-night. A poem by: Garry Ventura. August 3, 2015. The days ...
