David Lewis Paget > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

The Vicar, Reverend Birkenshaw Was a man deep filled with gloom, He often regretted his calling On a rain filled afternoon, The c..

I lived next door to a factory That was old when Victoria died, It used to be called a spinning mill But the place is a wreck inside,..

I sit at night in a darkened room And rest my eyes from the glare, The mirror’s cracked in the hallway, and Another’s cracked..

I’m writing this in a cellar, deep In the earth, by candlelight, Keeping my head down nightly from The fall of meteorites, New Y..

The last of the autumn sun had gone, The winter was blowing in, And on her broom, the witch of the north Arrived with her bag of sin, ..

I’d had a spat with my only love So I set out in the car, She said, ‘Well, where are you going to?’ I answered, ‘..

The summer season was almost gone The circus had been and went, We looked on sadly across the green As they packed the final tent, The..

We barely remembered the former times For our times had ceased to run, Were wiped as clean as our memories In the land of the hidden sun,..

Samantha sat at the headland, and She gazed on out at the sea, Down where the wake of the submarine Had all but disappeared, She thoug..

I don’t remember my grandfather He died, before I was born, And none of the uncles and aunts had kids So I grew apart, alone, Th..