bus (Remove filter)
Trip
they promised us "no rain" but
here we are
at the aptly named Water Lane
where the trees, be-whiskered of finger,
stroke their leaf free, would be, chins
bemused by roots once dry and thin now
fat and drunk
so let’s begin
we passed a fox
we passed a hound
but then a somewhat grisly mound
mechanically rendered
and from that point south ...
Saturday 5th January 2013 8:31 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sands of Time
6 hours ago
Trevor Alexander on Sands of Time
9 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Old
9 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on WHEN YOU WALKED INTO MY LIFE - a lyric
10 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on Trinity River Days
10 hours ago
Robert C Gaulke on Feels like home
11 hours ago
Keletso on Seeds of Joy and Sorrow
11 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on This Silent Landscape
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet No 333
14 hours ago
David RL Moore on Tragic Bus
15 hours ago