Guernsey Poets

I can’t think to seem straight No, I can’t think For myself or on my feet Of the names to the faces On the street My mind is blank Mi...

I am so frail that I can barely breathe Yet my mind refuses rest My pen dilly dally's across paper like a stone skips on water Spide...

this shadow that follows cancels out my moves taunts and teases traces my extremities from my nose to my toes making out that I lie ...

I'd sit down and think of the times of my past The shit and the shadows depression had cast The troubles, the fears, in a future unt...

I stared into my eyes Reflected in my view I hated who I saw As all I see is you The scars of life on show The pain I only see I gri...

Flash through my window Sunlight slipstream Drivers swearing While tyres scream Red stop bus queues All running late Old man walking...

As I stand in my garden, surrounded by trees I question what’s real and what’s not My senses inhale the nature around My memory brings ba...

When I find myself in the open And I can’t hide away Surrounded by words I’ve spoken With nothing left to say I won’t think about tomorr...

And as you leave, close the door I don't want to breathe anymore Stale air coming up the stair All the way from the thirteenth floor ...

I'm going to make a mistake, I know I am. I'm going to look a fool. Be an object of ridicule. At a crucial point I'll stumbl...

Have we met? For I think I know you. A familiar face that I recall I know that smile and those big brown eyes. I’m sure you help me when do...

I know that I have wasted many days throughout my years I've often given up or never tried But I've done the best I can Tried to ...

I write what I'm thinking I write what I see I write about conflicts... That rage within me And when I'm not writing I think j...

Don't worry about 'not fitting in' any place for you, it would have been like a prison you work better on your own, a wild car...

I was born in the wrong place I arrived in the wrong time I should have been a teenager in 1959 America should have been my homeland Whe...

When they say, How are you? I speak of you gently as if your dying Was just the 'way of life' to be expected some time, by all of...

Looking back, what torturous routes full of crossroads and junctions of opportunity some were taken, some forsaken, with equal degrees of...

My darker side... The trigger in mind The finest of line between badness and kind My tightrope wire I balance upon The bullet in barrel ...

I hide inside my hollow self Like a serial killer unknown No friends... No one... And I like this darkening place For here I am left co...

"All this madness has got to stop Save the World and lock me up !" Lyndon Queripel