WOL wigan (Remove filter)
Last Orders
Last Orders
I come on Thursday, sit on wooden chair
where poets congregate in strange half light,
sharing their thoughts with those who gather there -
the words are spoken, soaring, shining bright,
warming us as we leave to face the night.
The bear pit darkens, but forever hosts
the rhyming, raging, ranting, Tudor ghosts.
Thursday 20th November 2014 7:19 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
10 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
14 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Fallen Leaf
22 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
28 minutes ago
Yanma Hidayah on The heart that waited
30 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SUPPORT GENOCIDE ACTION I OPPOSE PALESTINE ACTION
36 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on 'Little Boy' 6/8/1945 (80 Years Ago)
45 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Starved.
49 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on A SEASON THAT SKIPPED US?
50 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Elementary
58 minutes ago