Month: January 2014

  • My First Grandchild, by Edwina Slack

    I had forgotten just how sweet it is, To hold a tiny baby in my arms, To feel the silken head resteing against my cheek, The fragile fet pressing against my side, Child of my own dear child, my thankful heart Echoes the murmmuring lullaby I sing. I see the blue eyes close, the lashes…

  • Modern Poetry Idea

    Recently I attended a beat-poetry evening, called Voicebox run by Un-deg-Un. There I had the pleasure of meeting the youth poet for Wales. I was not brave enough to share any of my work, beliving them to be unpolished, and unfinished. They were definately too short. However, it has occured to me that I write…

  • Hell.

    They sell hell is something you carry around with you. That it is not a place. There are many people who think that they have been to hell, or are in hell. This is, perhaps, true. Though it is only, really, a pale version of hell. An idea that is part of the genius of…