poem (Remove filter)
For You, Wherever You Are
It was on my first of many elevator rides
up from the basement floor
I met a woman with short, red hair and a leather jacket,
who I only ever saw
just this once.
I don’t know whether I ever responded
when she spoke to me
or to God
or to the elevator door
saying:
three years ago, now,
they had given her six months to live.
saying:
three ye...
Saturday 16th March 2024 2:21 am
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
3 hours ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
5 hours ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
7 hours ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
7 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
9 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
13 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
14 hours ago
Rolph David on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
15 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
16 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
16 hours ago