Autumn 2014

16.

Tranquillity of Sunday gathers in Fitzgerald's park

The roses grows on trees, the ducks sail cotton clouds

The warm sun dries doubt sodden paths

Across the passive sky drifts happily perhaps

 

 

Ah, I wish I wouldn't have to be home by five...

 

Sweet Sunday?  Briga Saulė, 2014

Sweet Sunday? Briga Saulė, 2014


No Comparison

(James O'Toole)

 

'Poetry is not real'

she screamed

'I am.'

I must agree

she was

but

quite deluded

for she would come

go

like many before

after

unnoticed

unlamented

whereas poetry

would go on

invigorate, reinvent

refresh, shock, mollify

renew, revive

ad infinitum

and as we all know

 

poetry is fantastic in bed...

 

by Brigita Stasun