Guernsey Poets

You're carrying on like a troubadour jaded Singing your songs from a time that has faded Lyrics of meaning, though sung of a past Eac...

I pick up the phone. I dial your number. And I wait for the message That says the real you Will call me later. I don’t leave my name....

Yak yak yatter Nic nik natter How I hate the chit and chatter Aimless as starlings Pointless as meteorites Abstract trajectories Imper...

The Revolution will not be televised But it will be on Youtube For our continued entertainment. We will tweet it widely Proclaiming its ...

He lay there silent, head tipped back, a look of surprise fixed in his eyes. On his head two black spots lie separated by a maw that...

Walls have ears Be careful when you speak Telephones have taps And mine’s started to leak. Lyndon Queripel

Art is a language with which we communicate Comprised of lines both straight and broken Of colours, hues and shades A language where not...