Bardic warriors in the worn tartan
of Christie Cleek declaim
their savage lines:
It's never too late to be early
and catch the wind
Taxed to death
the mirror whispers a thousand words
we seldom notice
Stuffy, smoky stifling atmosphere
of shouting people:
What do they put in our beer?
Stop killing our world -
and don't be late!...
Monday 10th February 2014 10:09 pm
Tags: Collage Poem,Stockport WOL
Mothers of sons dream troubled dreams
of blowing leaves and anniversaries.
Give me an energetic brush every time
it smells like winter, trees sigh softly
and nature floats my boat. Red and gold
leaves scurry along in the force
the pungence of words strong enough
to sting the nostrils, sweet enough
to bless the ears
glamour in fleece and recognitio...
Monday 13th January 2014 9:57 pm
Tags: Collage Poem,January Collage poem,Stockport WOL
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