Seil Chat

In cold wakefulness and harsh light, the wrinkles look like cracks; the first sign of things not wanted for or called. Tho yet there is a hope bold blind but not impossible, if I can steer the wheel and keep the tiller straight. It comes from ventures far -excitements still to have- the possibilitie...

What a cunning poem teddy. My only criticism is that I quite like port
very good ending too.

Thanks for your lovely feedback.

I am looking forward to putting some more on here, and reading more as well!

Fingal

Unborn though not unloved: Pluck a tear from both my eyes, use your hands my unborn child but don't be sad For these are fruits from happy trees that grow, deep down within my heart and in my soul I will stand like all that mass, when first you take a gulp of air, with crimson lips yet still unform...

It reminds me of many nights like this, frustration, exhaustion and the inability to sleep. I enjoyed your poem!

Very impressed by the take-away menu. Well priced too!

See you then!

Come again?

I was slightly sad to see the old hall lying in a pile of its own mucus the other day, so many fond memories. Does anybody know when the new one will be rocking and rolling?

Shame Billy Ford's not around to christen it!