Poet Introduction I write mainly poetry for the inner journey. I also have a feisty side-line of writing poetic commentaries on the war industry and politics & culture. "When power corrupts, poetry cleanses" (JFK, Oct 1963)
Two guys hung from nooses on different branches of a big tree. My, oh my said the alien tourist so that’s how humans are grown…, on trees … who’d have thought? But do they fall to the ground naturally, then walk and talk — or are they picked?
Modest star on desirable edge of Milky Way Galaxy. Comes with eight main & five dwarf planets, boasting 184 moons, plus numerous asteroid outbuildings. Sitting tenants on Planet-3, Earth — currently in lock- and melt-down. Ripe for redevelopment, (subject to the usual planning perditions). Apply: Stratos & Suns.
I live in a neglected pause — I think I just fell into it by mistake so I made a case for ‘serendipity’ to add meaning; “God’s Will” someone suggested, trying to be helpful.
Exploring the pause I found a stray dog without a bone — how the hell did he get here? But when I encountered pink carnations rocking on a rainbow to The Doors’ Roadhouse Blues, I thought wow, weird scenes inside a goldmine indeed, I’ve stopped the clock — life is worth living after all.
My maternal grand-mother, Evelyn Woodward, born 1888, lived through the arrival of cars, radio & TV, manned flight two world wars, loss of the family business in the Liverpool blitz the moon-landings and arrival of computers; always treated by a homeopathic doctor, but blind for the last 30 years of her life, she looked after her younger spinster sisters and died in 1984 with 96 years of astonishment on her face that she was still alive.