|
|
POET'S CORNER?!
This is a little area of the site where one can be that bit more creative. Despite such a high ideal, I've decided to put some of my stuff here all the same. There's nothing LEGALLY wrong with putting some of my stuff here. Morally and humanely, yes, but not legally. Not yet anyway...
To start off here's a little poem that I originally sent in to a half-wits collective known as 'Poetry.Com'. Suffice to say that 'Poetry.Com', b*******s that they are, did not put my poem on the site. This is despite putting a previous effort online and so I now wish on them the same, fairly unpleasant fate I wished Belfast Citybus this very afternoon. It ain't Seamus Heaney, but it'll do for a start.
PS: The title isn't mine and 'Poetry.Com' don't know I've nicked it, Tee-Hee!
|
| |
Mrs Vanderbilt
In grey, steel clung harbour
Where time did not survive,
Revelation on each road and alleyway
Surest sign the depression has arrived.
In some wisdom it would say
She built up all the stocks,
But now in more dust-moulded days
The era's spent carving up the locks.
To devalue some more.
The liner is coming in black, leaden rivulets
You should take this season's cruise,
She says in this world you have everything
So you have very little to lose.
When dockside crystallises
With just it's salt cargo,
She earns what is left of the cash.
On runners such things must be lasting
And every action now is considered rash.
Depth charges and fishnets, not marbled gold
Now crown my Dylan-esque grave.
Adam Lively (c)2000
|
|
|
| |
Ah, well. Could have been better! Now, I hope you're comatose comfortably, for then we shall begin. A slight change in direction here as Poet's Corner welcomes that slight, dog-eared element of prose. This is a story based on an idea by a good friend and eternal genius who I happen to know. We've both come up with different story ideas from the original premise and this is mine, although his is miles better. Have a read of this anyway, as it slowly appears...
|
|
|
| |
The City |
|
|
|
