day 13(74) (Remove filter)
The Last Breath Of Evening
The Last Breath Of Evening
The sky is bruised purple at the last breath of evening
The air stilled from violent storms before the last breath of evening
From the new sunrise and the slow burn of a waking day
Stretching ahead in unknown pleasures to the last breath of evening
A day of honest work and muscles that ache
With the strain of reaching the last breath of e...
Saturday 13th June 2020 2:42 pm
Recent Comments
Holden Moncrieff on Not Every Eye
1 hour ago
Holden Moncrieff on Better Sight...
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on 'What can writers and poets possibly do in the age of Trump, Farage and Starmer?'
3 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Civilities
4 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on EVEN THE OLIVES ARE BLEEDING
5 hours ago
John Marks on EVEN THE OLIVES ARE BLEEDING
5 hours ago
Hélène on Better Sight...
5 hours ago
Hélène on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
5 hours ago
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
7 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Where is THIS Jerusalem?
7 hours ago