fun to play (Remove filter)
What art thou?
With winter's persistence,
The gardens grow dead.
The struggles fill us
With heavy dread.
The snow blazes passed us
The wind howls and echoes far.
My little brother clings to blankets,
And my parents hold each other without a second thought.
Yet I sit behind a candle,
Its' warmth so yummy and good.
The harsh winter will pass us by,
And by and by 'till the...
Saturday 30th April 2016 4:10 am
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
21 minutes ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
2 hours ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
3 hours ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
6 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
10 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
11 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!]
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
13 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
13 hours ago