sight (Remove filter)
First Light
thorn rose in quicksand
a pale siren lost at sea
gurgling a hymn, that's
what she means to me
she's saying little of late
quieter now than of yore
time's calmed her down
once I called her a whore
came home at all hours
partied till she dropped
spent money like water
manic how she shopped
once a nymphomaniac
in bed she wore me out
I was not t...
Wednesday 12th May 2021 10:42 am
Recent Comments
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
3 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
4 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!]
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
6 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
6 hours ago
Rolph David on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
6 hours ago
Rolph David on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
6 hours ago
Tim Daly on Prayer for the Little Ones
7 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Prayer for the Little Ones
7 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Prayer for the Little Ones
8 hours ago