I had a fright
when I tried to write
and I found
my little voice inside
had gone on strike
Nada for a poem
Flash fiction, was a No
and my work in progress
was not even a go!
To feed imagination
You need a pot of tea
1 Pack of chocolate biscuits
or maybe, custard creams.
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Iceland
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I was lost when you left Yet I see you all the time You face is etched in alabaster On a canvas in my mind And when my eyes are closed I can...
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It was the first of three funerals this morning, the vicar smiled as well as he could manage, gritting his teeth as he stifled a yawn, whil...
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