How many years have these stones Here stood? Mute watchers of hurrying seasons Here where once lived voices ‘Neath turf and heather roofed Lie now…
The pretentious prattlings of a piss poor poet
How many years have these stones Here stood? Mute watchers of hurrying seasons Here where once lived voices ‘Neath turf and heather roofed Lie now…
As I stumble through this existence I wander past Rows of stark stone prisons Encaging sad suburban souls Within their lifeless, faced-brick cells. They mete…
Eagles cry, eagles haunt Above moorland Of grouse And heather And life Myriad sheep trod paths Lead me deeper Into this delightful, deceptive freedom On…
Winter sunrise Salmon vapoured clouds In beryl sky swim Geese flying In playful arrowed form Pass over me My footfall On iced grass remains A…
The grey cold of winter rain lashes face and hands and me. Raven clouds dark as my damaged thoughts lie overhead, threatening, sinister. Muddy paths…
Through the chill mist comes the honk of lonely goose From an island over in the stream Somewhere out of view In the grey light…