Guernsey Poets

Black shawled, she gathers sticks, views you aslant. Her cat is black, it has an evil eye. We tread an extra mile, though we are tired, to...

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in October 2012 In the blackest hours of Halloween night ...

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...

Fingers of coldness are creeping all over Iciness eating the flesh off of me A dog fox is barking outside in the darkness Clouds are forb...

The crying wind blew up the hill It dragged along a frozen chill Bending trees with ease apart Its destination was my heart Hunting for ...