Category: Poetry

Paul Carll worked in the coal pits, But on Christmas Eve he called quits, And down by the crick, Lit a dynamite stick, In a flash he was blown clean…

Poetry

Poetry

Grey house, Black gutters. Stand on the brick path, And enjoy the cooling Shower of the leaky gutters.

Poetry

A tree across the road, the expected thing stops happening. The volley evaporates them into the forest like the mist or the deer whose skins they wear. The shrieking, from…

Poetry

Poetry