Poetry 'n Prose



A quieter village

Where they put Y’s where Y’s don’t belong,

No one knows you here

No one cares where you’re from

Only where you’re going

But they’re friendly

They embrace me and I them

Another man coming down

From Pen-Y-Fan on a cold afternoon

Wet through, almost invigorated


At the bar I’m looking out

The window dreaming of halcyon days

Laughing above the din of the dukebox

At the story of how he fell off the bike

And it provides good cover

for the growing feeling

This unshakable remorse

Did I tell her how much

She changed my world?

And did I repay her

In kindness? In a 1000 kisses?

Like my life depended on it?


More drink… please

Another double whiskeys down

There’s no use in crying

No amount poetry will bring her back

No amount of tears will wash

Her memory away

Besides this gut wrenching,

Disregarding my soul

She cannot see

So carry on laughing

Laughing above the din of the dukebox

Listen to his story again.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

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