I She just wants to be loved, Without love that she craves, She symbolically, Piteously, withers and fades, […]
poetry
I posted a poem on Armistice day – 11th November. It was a fursy draught. Here is the […]
It is the hundredth year of war. Even though the war has been over for a hundred years […]
Continuing in the series of Autumn scribblings – November – a poem on crossing a bleak land of […]
(Unfinished Journey home) Rolling home through the night from a southern city Rolling past early rising liquid gold […]
Riverflow The therapy of drifiting. Aimless and pointless driving across a skeletal winter forest On lonely roads down […]
Chez Nick 