Grans Poem
the grey has lasted some four months now
a dull, hampering grey.
bottle it, flick the glass with your fingernail.
no chime no ring, but muffled thuds like a thousand footsteps plodding through weeds of memories.
the beige has lasted some ten years now. it’s rough carpet felt wheels, children’s sighing sleep.
hands pushing indents, the television played too late and too loud...
Friday 28th February 2025 12:51 am
Recent Comments
John F Keane on A Cut Above
1 minute ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
2 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
6 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
7 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!]
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
9 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
9 hours ago
Rolph David on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
9 hours ago
Rolph David on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
9 hours ago
Tim Daly on Prayer for the Little Ones
10 hours ago