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Laneway Poems - Poems about Laneway


The Abandonment

...It was full of long stringy grass which had grown out, all over the back of the house. It hung over the bare walls. The briars were everywhere and they would prick you clean red blooded. The shed wid...
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Categories: laneway, absence, earth, environment, garden,
Form: Alliteration

Premium MemberAs We Wait

...pink roses hang heavy in the undulating heat
a partial arch over the laneway
gentle sway midst the silver dust

a youth with his pug dog pauses
half in shadow beneath the flowery portal
the air...
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Categories: laneway, care, dog, flower, giving,
Form: Free verse



Premium MemberAlmost

...

I move closer
to decipher the sound.
It is the wind blowing across
the lips of the morning
moistened by melting frost.
It speaks in whispers.

My footsteps seem loud
and echo along the wa...
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Categories: laneway, morning, silence, song, sound,
Form: Free verse

Premium MemberWalking to School

...

School was a mile and a half
walk from home,
across roadways, busy streets
and railway lines and through
parklands patrolled
by swooping magpies in spring.
We thought nothing of it
when it...
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Categories: laneway, childhood, nostalgia, school,
Form: Free verse

Premium MemberDown the Roads of Pride-

...Down the roads of pride
The street of greed
The path of wrath
The avenue of Envy
Transport  causeway on the thruway
 I'll pass the corridor of by pass on the superhigh
In the alleyw...
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Categories: laneway, allusion, analogy,
Form: Dramatic Verse



Premium MemberThe War Bride

...THE WAR BRIDE
	
They walked hand in hand, barefoot through the meadow
The birds were in song and the bees were in flight
It seemed that they only had eyes for each other	
The buttercups danced, ...
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Categories: laneway, lost love,
Form: Ballad

Premium MemberPart One - a Gunshot Wound To the Heat - a Short Story From My Memoir

...GUNSHOT WOUND TO THE HEART 


From a two-room schoolhouse high on a hill over the Fundy Bay, I sat at an old wooden desk daydreaming. The ink stains and etchings which were dug deep into its surfa...
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Categories: laneway, nostalgia,
Form: Prose

Book: Reflection on the Important Things