Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in November 2012
What is beauty, but the child of dreams and longings held deep within us.
What is love, but the sister of pain and sorrow, wrung from our hearts into new birth.
What is joy, but the lighter shade of loss and feelings so dark and cold.
What is life, but the passing of moments in which we learn to love and remember.
Martyn Legg
Blog Archive
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2015
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November
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- Used To Be - Lyndon Queripel
- Conversation Overheard - Diane Scantlebury
- The Fairy Ring - Andrew Barham
- People - Trudie Shannon
- Daydreams - Bryony de Lat
- The Wind's Words - Tony Gardner
- She didn't care - Bryant Doyle
- Taken - Ian Duquemin
- What Is? - Martyn Legg
- Shooting In The Dark - Lyndon Queripel
- The Riddler - Tony Bradley
- Gone - Diane Scantlebury
- Loyalty - Chris Hudson
- Lament - Richard Fleming
- Another Day - Trudie Shannon
- Paris Be Strong - Ian Duquemin
- Hear for keeps - Bryant Doyle
- The Robins of Cardiff - Kathy Figueroa
- Dogs Enjoying Budloe Night - Tony Gardner
- The Poppy - Ian Duquemin
- Safe - Diane Scantlebury
- Just A Thought Away - Lyndon Queripel
- How Peculiar - Julian Clarke
- The Gynaecologist - Tony Bradley
- Paper Plane - Oscar Milde
- Remember, Remember… - Traditional
- The Demon and the Angel - Ian Duquemin
- Silver Surfing? - Jenny Hamon
- Flotsam - Diane Scantlebury
- Why Is It Called A Boxing Ring When It's A Square?...
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November
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