Lytham St Annes (Remove filter)
The Sands
I made sandcastles here as a lad.
I’ve walked and ran with the dogs,
Faced the rain and the blustering winds,
Dozed in the summer sun,
And beachcombed.
When I die, burn my body like a Viking God
And bring my ashes to the sands.
When the tide turns and the wind blows hard
Then empty my remains.
Let the wind take them across the waves;
And watch while the sea foams...
Wednesday 20th May 2015 12:15 pm
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
10 minutes ago
Ben John on Buy weed and coke in London Telegram: @Bruce_55shop3 +44 7918 682218
22 minutes ago
Ben John on Buy weed and coke in Berlin Telegram: @Bruce_55shop3
23 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Where is THIS Jerusalem?
37 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on A Cut Above
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [No. 31. Brussels Boycott]
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Civilities
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Stats (To be continued)
3 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
4 hours ago
Rolph David on The Anchorage Gambit – Reflexive Control
4 hours ago