top of page
A goblin, a horrid little creature, with a face of greeny brown._Huge, hairy eyebrows that


Guy Cullen

A grumpy old sod with a soft centre.

Falling fallow into sorrow,
Feelings flanked by soft tomorrow,
Faces warmed by shallows deep,
My mind too soon, my thoughts to keep.

The waves of simple fields of clay,
The same old shifts in earth’s decay.
To bring my squandered feelings home,
The seas to sail, the fields to roam.

The soaring depths of feelings hollow,
The empty strains of stark tomorrow,
Glide seamlessly in shades of blue,
No feathers fall, no fear forced coup.

Could ever condescend to this,
On fields of frozen, earthbound bliss,
Or sage and understanding ways,
In fields bereft and fire ablaze.

My mind it is abound with hope,
Malignant fear, foreboding rope,
The chance to break from life’s grey dawn,
My mind alone, my mind forlorn.

bottom of page