Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    
Profile image

Nick Payne

Updated: Thu, 7 Aug 2008 04:55 pm

nicholas_pyn@yahoo.co.uk

http://www.myspace.com/prestatyn

Contact via WOL logo

Biography

I've been performing on the poetry circuit for nearly ten years now . I also play bass in Tiger Lily http://www.myspace.com/tigerlilyuk

Samples

DON'T LET THE SUN CATCH YOU CRYING Golden harvest, sun dipping into mountains, workers ploughing field. How I wish I were back in the land of my forefathers. Those were the days when Poppa would bring home a buck rabbit for Momma to skin. And my Mom, she were a good mom. Always up before sunrise preparing breakfast. Our day would start like any other with the family gathered round the kitchen table listening to stories Pop had told us time upon time. But we didn't mind. That was our pop. This is one of those stories; Jacob Reeve was a simple man. Never knew fair lady. Never knew. Just never knew. The sort of man who were good with the hands but not with their head. Worked all day did Jake. Turning over. Turn. Turn the land over. Over all day. Grandmama took a shine to this gentle giant. This gentle giant with hands like bear's paws that although quite rough would no doubt be used quite gently. You see, there came a day when those hands would come in handy. A day when Grandpapa, dear sweet Grandpapa dropped his pipe and set alight himself one night. Well, Grandmama she were a-hollering. My she were a-screaming and a-calling. Oh were terrible. But Jake, Jacob Reeve twas it were he, he picked up Grandpapa and placed him in the horse's trough. So Jake, he saved Grandpapa. But Jake, he wouldn't just stop there. He wanted to save the house and save the house he did. At a price. To this day we don't know how it happened but after putting out every last trace of smoke on the premises, Jake fell to the ground. He couldn't be stirred. And there he stayed. Well, until there could be someone there to take him away. As for Grandpa, he quit smoking his pipe and spent the money saved on a headstone for Jake. It was the only thing he could do.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message