Guernsey Poets

When the Fat Lady sings her song of death, her red dress billows out. Her stage is the horizon there beyond the sea where white birds sho...

He wasn’t supposed to be born that way But it wasn’t something he could choose You see, his mother was a party girl And really liked the ...

I often come for a stroll on this headland they come for contrasting reasons, some others that do some seem to have blinkers, ignoring the...

Borrow from tomorrow. It could bring you joy or it could bring you sorrow. It could become a noose around your neck. You'll need to k...

Outside the Britannia pub Red faced, blue nosed he stands, A smouldering cigarette dangling From the scarred white fingers of his hand, ...