Mrs Rutter’s Dolly Blue…

This poem was first published on the 5th of July 2010. I was prompted to post it here by nemo’s poem about distemper…   The streets are all cobble, where large horses puff, Pulling dust-carts and coal, dead people and stuff! Gas-tar in summer that melts in the sun, Then in the winter home made sledges will run. Old corner

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Parting of the Ways

Why did she say “I’ll be back soon” when she knew that it was a lie? It was not simply an ‘Arrivederci’ but a deliberate and final goodbye.   She felt stifled and needed space and said so in her Dear John letter. As long as the status quo remained her situation would not get  better.   Was well aware

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The Dawn That Waits

  Drifting into midnight, loosening ties to waking illusions, we enter the greater place. Vaguely familiar but shielded by misty confusion to those who fear. For death comes nightly and resurrection with waking. So why reject the natural progression of day to night, or life to life again? Unpredictable, perhaps challenging, the path ahead… but earth years are little more

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Bluebells of Scotland

  Will you walk in the Bluebells with me? For times are changing; And only yesterday I was young and now, older, tomorrow? older still… Come, meet me in the woods, where light is shredded by the pines and ground becomes our sacred bed, full circle for one born to love out doors. I will caress you in sun-speckled splendour;

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