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And for those who lie in ambush for themselves, Who invent toughness as a kind of disguise, Who, lost in self-defeating worlds, Carry remorse inside them like a plague; And for the self-seeking self lost among them I hazard a poem. I have, said the poet, but they fit too easily. Sally Slipshod is such a poem. Research with real world impact.

There is a Boat Down on the Quay There is a boat down on the quay come home at last. Below is a poem that was written for the National Aphasia Association at the request of a friend with an aphasic child. The routines which comforted you, And the habits in which you sought refuge Will bend like sunlight under water and go astray.

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They must. All over the country at the moment people are beginning to form groups to clean up local rivers. The British Council. Saint Peter stood outside the Gates of Heaven With a far-away look in his eyes, He was thinking of Rachel and Rebecca, Of their scent and their plump brown thighs. Good morning dear world. Hopefully it can be found or ordered from independent bookshops, but if, sadly, there are none near you, then Amazon stock it.

I had not known how vividly it lit The world with such a peaceful glow. From amongst the ice-flecked branches What can they see unfold? I wish Santa would come early And stuff him in his sack - He could take him to the North Pole And never bring him back. As editor [ edit ]. It clung to him lovingly, and never let go again. The second poem, City Park , was written before the Sexual Offences Act of , and is one of many in which Harry explored a society that criminalised homosexual love.

We exchange banter, his ghost and I, the best of mates still. This poem was written in Tintagel, Cornwall, some time ago. Sally Slipshod. This beautifully produced book is inspired by ancient stories that have their origins in 10th century Middle Eastern folk tales and sufi teaching stories. It was a laborious music, muffled by the drizzle and kept afloat by the fog that often hung over the city.

I pour him one ghost glass after another- We down the bottle — who cares if we get smashed now?

Brian patten wife

Nina Simone left all on her own - None announced a final show. Tools Tools. How strange I've not understood so clearly before how liars and misers, the cruel and the arrogant lie down and make love like all others, how nothing is ever as expected, nothing is ever as stated. The seed of my long alienation from those I loved Was wrapped in daydreams.

Only time conspired against you- Ted, Allen, weavers of your matrix, dust now. I thought it was my tiredness, my own grief at an oncoming separation That had caused this trick of light, a freak hallucination.