Guernsey Poets

The beaches here never grow old. Just as the rocks raise their bulky bodies from the deep, they are covered by the next wave. The i...

is in the middle of nowhere. Its sky, a sheet of graph paper, that plots the intersecting vapour trails of passing planes. X-marks-the...

"Between the potency and the existence, …. Falls the shadow" T.S Eliot, "The Hollow Men"   It is the look of it t...

And there, beneath the trees, beneath the broken summer and the eloquence of absence, lies the day. The day that did not grow into a ni...

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in March 2012 He weighs his past by the sea, each year a...

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in January 2012 The cherry tree carries the seeds of hope...

You exchanged the smell of the pine trees for the wet grass of the north. But your dreams are full of pine needles and you can still hear ...

The waves came crashing in again. We knew they were coming. And so we tried to build an arc. But we had eaten all the animals and burned...

I know, Nostalgia lives in the past. She owns the knot, that holds it all together. Faces and smells and sounds, wearing Her perfume, ...

You stand by the window, below the silent sky, before the naked street. Once youʼd walk together, and in your path this place would glo...

Your eyes are burning, but within I spy forests and rivers and panthers jumping out, in quest of everything there is. I swear I saw them...

He weighs his past by the sea, each year a wave, each wave a part of him. In his beard salt and seagull cries. In his eyes the rhythmic ...

The cherry tree carries the seeds of hope. We look for it when most in need. It caresses our eyes and speaks the language of our heart. T...