Birdsongs

Call it a stream of consciousness, call it free writing, call it an open journal. Call them My Songs.

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Wednesday, 21 March 2018

Extremes

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Stop the sweeping statements  Empty as they are No-one walks on water You can't fix broken glass. I am not the only You are not th...
Saturday, 3 March 2018

For Phoenix

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Dear phoenix, oh phoenix Oh ancient, artful, omniscient bird. You who is knowledge and strength and beauty, You who is one in a...
Monday, 7 August 2017

The D word

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Nothing new, nothing changed, Nothing that hasn't been said: She's dead. Not passed, not gone, Not, no longer with us: ...
Saturday, 5 August 2017

Yellowness

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Sunflowers in line Standing at attention Facing their maker, dressed in cheerful gold Lines, rows; perfectly ruled Nodding with...
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