Writings

Daily Life In London

My Poetry. Traffic jams.

0

Late again what will I do? Traffic held up another long queue a glance at your watch nerves uptight engine overheating Something not right. The car...

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glencoe

My Poetry. Unspoilt land.

6

Mountains tall, rivers flow, Tall Trees proud, colours aglow, Whistling birds, melodic in tune, High banked sand, in the shape of a dune. Waterfalls pure, sweet-smelling air,...

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