Wednesday, February 05, 2014

Monday Evening's Prompts


Back then, the man-woman thing, it was different

The past is on another planet

Porridge, Toast, Dad at the sink

St David's, Catholics, every one of the bastards

Straw Hats

Corpus Christi, White as Virgins, charcoal, red

We had no choice but try

The thorns go in. Most come out


I thought I knew my accent, talked in prose

We knew our place. No we KNEW our place

The smell of Focaccia

False echoes, mistaken paths

I liked the blues for a while, and harmonicas


So, OK, which of us is free?

On the street where you live

Pack up your troubles and all that

We will need a translator

I am my right hand man, and my assistant 

God will be along later, meanwhile...

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