jack-pot (Remove filter)
Runt
can love nestle in those eyes
a jack-pot after barren years
or is she too good to be true
the focus of my usual fears?
steeping-stones above water
bulb straining at level loam
sun-rise parting mountains
iron boss on shield of Rome
a look is better than nothing
potent a moment's glance
river hot with fragile elvers
cold steel of knightly lance
turq...
Sunday 27th September 2020 11:18 am
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
3 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