Storm BrewingA Poem by Chris Shaw
Look at this collage of colour,
leaves swept in on westerly winds while I was drifting in dream land. There they lie in a bed of wet, grass bejewelled from last night's rain, more reds than greens or tangerines. At peace they rest in harmony, whatever shape, whatever shade, they overlap and some join hands. Oh goodness, what's become of us? This week I've witnessed hostile scenes from Parliament I've seen it all. A Parliament that's truly dead. A Parliament it must be said, whose politicians heads are filled with sawdust. © 2019 Chris ShawFeatured Review
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27 Reviews Added on September 28, 2019 Last Updated on September 28, 2019 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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