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The Poetry Field (One Haiku)
The Poetry Field There is paleness to your skin Dress before the winter months chill you The Poetry Field Warm caressing air Humble beginnings betrayed Dark season ahead
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The Second Spring
I admired your youth I admired the fullness of your summer But now as we wait for our winter I am no longer seduced by your vivid colours The Second Spring What Colours! But your brittle textures Inhibit me The Second Spring I have been seduced by your velvet decay The small deaths […]
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The Alphabet Trees
The Alphabet Trees Have Helped Me And Continue To Help Me God Bless The Alphabet Trees
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Sandwich Limb
I own a brightly coloured beach hut in Brightlingsea Which I occasionally visit I also own a fish and chip shop here in Sandwich Which I have called Papas Fish & Chip Shop As my grandchildren Call me Papa And enjoy fish and chips But they do not like my beach hut As they consider […]
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Irish writers come to die in Brightlingsea
Well that is not strictly true As no famous Irish writers or poets Have died here I live in this small town But I am not Irish And I hate the taste of oysters This said I consume Five sandwiches each day To aid my delicate constitution Before I swim in the sea I am […]
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Hungerford at Dawn (Mid-February)
The eastern sky is quite bright With small torn clouds Floating aimlessly within its display Hungerford is still shrouded in darkness Only the face of the town’s clock Provides any illumination The cold season is far from spent Bitter winds are expected But one can feel the mysteries Of warmer days Hanging in the rigid […]
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The Telephone Box in the Strand
The red telephone box in the Strand Is full of journals and books All but the deepest publications Have views to France Unless the cloud is low I am a dictionary
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The Blue Primate
Judy was sitting in a stream I was standing next to our tent It was a warm spring day Judy was naked and was sitting in a stream Do you realise that primates Can scratch their backs But I cannot even wash mine That is because we have no soap I am standing […]
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Lonely in Southwark
On the serious streets of Southwark I saw you wander by You did not notice me in Costa’s Nor did you wonder why Outlaw
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The Anchor as Bucharest
It was a nightmare created by a mind of fatigue I was in a hotel with you Today was our last day in a pleasant town The sea had been kind to us It had shown us a reality And how to really live We were greedy for more But here we were trapped […]
