by Mark Dron | May 22, 2009 | Poetry
It’s snowing at home. The Buses have stopped. Dad couldn’t find a Train this morning. The papers scream “Credit Crunch”,“Recession” and misery, Beer’s gone up, trials and tribulations. In the bottom of the parcel Nan’s placed warm socks, Kendal Mint Cake, a local...
by Mark Dron | May 16, 2009 | Poetry
Sun-Bleached bones, stretch across the dust. In cloudless skies of dazzling white the Vultures circle echoes of the fallen, uniformed spectres fade, the shades of the lost, haunt these blasted fields. Steel creatures lie sides ruptured, twisted and torn. Blistered and...
