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

I knelt to peer at my brother’s face In the light of the early morn, The face of the man I’d grown to love Since the day we both were b..

I lay a-dream in Byron Bay And felt a voice to sigh and say: ‘Get up, get up, There’s much to be done, And more to be seen, to be work..

Before the mountains Quake and fall away, And rivers dry, or Turn to scattered clay, Could I live to see the day Come Quickly! Before the hea..

My mind is musty, overgrown With weeds and deeds the years have sown And names untold that never left a face, I turned to you to find you’..

To the memory of Gus Brittain.

Deals with my frustrations with T.S. Eliot's 'Waste land', and all his other cold, emotionless works.

An exercise in alliteration

Based on a headstone in the Raymond Terrace Cemetery

Out of the nightmare came a dream, Out of the night, the dawn, A thousand bombers overhead The night that I was born… The world was filled ..

If all the world were pen and ink And all the folk were sorrow, If all the trees were burly breeze And Wednesdays, come tomorrow, If all the stars..