Guernsey Poets

Incy Wincy, black as night, Hiding from the bathroom light. Throbbing beat from hairy legs, Waiting, waiting, who’ll be next? Creepy cra...

True, they have their camp fires, Their war cries and tribal chants. But these are not proud warriors Defending ancient lands and rights....

In his own Universe he is the Sun And we, the hobbies, job and family Are as the planets, ever-circling, Absorbing whatever warmth and in...

Dignified and standing straight, Shoe-tree’d and neat, Waiting in a quiet place For work-weary feet. The pretend glass slippers of that...