Beating the hour.
Black headed gulls flock glide whirl and soar
in winter plumage without black caps confuse
and from the river bridge the town clock
marks time and beats the hour on this day.
Beach litter everywhere!
In desolation life renews.
Love found art!
Mists and the Park
Misty day in the Park!
Nothing else
Sometimes life feels
like a wall of sound
nothing else
but its all false
when you get out of the door
into life.
Mislaid
Mislaid
Memory is like a broken mirror
Sometimes
Like purposefully misplaced shards
So that we are unable
To recall the pain
Some memories entail
Our lives
Are littered
With such shards.
©RobCullen
Bridges not walls!
Poets in the valleys in Wales give us voices, verse and music not walls!
Celfypridd 