Turfcutter

FinsburyParkCarrots

I trudge through deep bog:
peatwater ditchsplash boots stomp
through floodblack turfspoil.

Dropsheet deathchill winds
roar through halfempty plastic
turfbag famine mouths.

Bent in my oilskins,
Seasalt lashing my red face,
I work through the storm.

There will be enough.
I will fill my barn with turf.
Let rains do their worst.

Still Here

Finsbury...I'm glad to see you just keep writing exceptional bits of work...I was quite sad to see the 'Ophelia's Nun' thread go to waste like it did...I'm truly sorry my friend...there was some beautiful stuff there, not only by yourself but by so many talented writers. Hopefully I can contribute again to one of your threads...Cheers mate...:D

FinsburyParkCarrots

Edmund's slow bass whisper, lockeye gaze
and counsel in a deadly confidence
Move the aged Gloucester to rage
Against his eldest, Edgar. Evidence
concocted, letters forged, fool a man
who would be dupe to cunning. Yet a net
of lies, however thickly woven, can
beneath a well shone light prove hollow yet.

Where hearts have sight and lies are shone to flames
A liar's secret plottings can be seen
and heard to scream those poor defamed names
that would be whispered, beyond their screen
of dark conspiracy. No ploy, no plan
Will grow on lies that blight another man.

FinsburyParkCarrots

That last one was inspired by readings of "King Lear". Any Shakespeare fans here?

coleen

novice shakespeare fan here. couldn't keep up with you i'm sure.

keep em coming fins.