childhood (Remove filter)
Kippered
Inhaled, indelible
40-a-day road-trips,
in a 3-door lagoon-blue
Mark II Hillman Imp.
Backseat passive passengers
tapped and shuffle packed.
Oblivious to the slow burn,
no open windows, not even a crack.
Upfront, ritual smokes,
their bond of small pleasure.
Love over Embassy Gold
compact and ash-covered.
Dad’s heart said give up.
...Thursday 12th December 2024 7:15 pm
Recent Comments
Rick Varden on What’s Wrong with Me?
1 hour ago
Marla Joy on The Poets are Lying.
13 hours ago
Marla Joy on Coincidence?
13 hours ago
Marla Joy on Your budding awareness
13 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Christmas Rocks 🎅 🎄☃️
15 hours ago
Hugh on Do not stand at my grave and wee
17 hours ago
Auracle on Thank you for all your poetry throughout 2024! Take a look at our Insta advent calendar - you're very welcome to join in!
23 hours ago
Auracle on If.........
1 day ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on I Pray For All My Friends Around The World
1 day ago
Stephen Gospage on Thank you for all your poetry throughout 2024! Take a look at our Insta advent calendar - you're very welcome to join in!
1 day ago