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  • Allan James Saywell (5/17/2005 11:32:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    it's a weapon dear one, you got the message, you lost the WAR the empire is gone
    go home ET

  • Allan James Saywell (5/17/2005 5:28:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    remember the war of independence brits, think think harder dont worry i have a poem all about it, you can read it, remember when you had power

  • Bernard Chenier (5/17/2005 4:17:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    |chaleureuse| de l'étoile de |regardais| de Je, |parcours| de |le| de |sur| de |flottait| de poèmeElle de |mon| de |dans| de |promenant| de |se|, de me les voiles de |échappées| de |rêves|, |ciel| de |le| de |dans| de |remontait| d'Elle de me |yeux|, le |dérive| de |sa| de |avec| d'étincelle,
    Dans son noyaux d'or et de feu pesant
    Si lourde, pour mon regard, cette étoile dans tes yeux et cette lumière
    Qu'elle s'enfonce en moi, dans des reflets mouvants
    Et son vide absorbe, l'étrave de son flambeau
    Qui déchire, la surface de la nuit
    Encor plus dense que les matières, de feu qui s'allume
    Elle coulera dans tes veines, par son brasier d'absence.


    La mèmoire des hommes, et celle de l'espace éclaté.
    Gardant encor, le peu de décor du temps,
    Et l'étoile dans ton regard, glisse comme une écume
    Sur le bord, des vagues sombres de tes pensées,
    Ton privilège de tes rêveries montantes,
    A la lisière, de ton visage illusoire de ce qu'il fut
    Tout scintillant, dans ces revers d'ombres,
    Je n'existait désormais, que pour elle maintenant.


    La nébuleuse de notre amour est cette comète,
    Qui passe avec un certain espoirs,
    dans les étoiles dansante de tes yeux
    Sur la meute des vagues du ciel,
    Leurs firmaments, ciel de vie,
    se chargant de trous noirs.
    Chenier

  • Allan James Saywell (5/17/2005 3:38:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    sorry good morning, i think i'll have a swim this morning just took a huge gulp of fresh air, we do have it here, clean crisp day, morning vermin yes you heard me
    oh it's so hard to find fresh material, all the cowboys are dead
    no point writing about them, breakfast time have to go, ignore yesssssssssss

  • Allan James Saywell (5/17/2005 3:33:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    benidict that is a knew name sounds like a priest or a pope, some guy from lismore yes boys and girls i'm up with things

  • Poetry Hound (5/17/2005 3:18:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Lamont, on the other hand, some people set the bar way too low.

  • mother baxter (5/17/2005 3:05:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    the empire is finished brits get a life, go back to your little hole in the earth
    your poetry is dead, it died in the battle for independance, which was lost by you

  • Mary Nagy (5/17/2005 6:19:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    I would like to say that I have found Jerry Hughes to be one of the most kind hearted people on this site. There are very few people that are as concerned with people and the world we live in the way Mr. Hughes has shown. I for one, would be very sad to see him leave this site. I just thought he should know that. Sincerely, Mary

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    • Michael Shepherd (5/17/2005 7:26:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

      Thank you, Mary, for that well-deserved and eloquent statement. Jerry has been sadly under-rated by - who? the envious? I hope he reconsiders.

  • Chris Benedict (5/17/2005 5:52:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Mr Saywell, I wouldn't send a book of your poems to my worst enemy let alone a 'friend'. Congratulations. In 900-odd pointless poems you've achieved nothing that hasn't already been done in a much better way and annoyed a lot of nice people into the bargain.

  • Allan James Saywell (5/17/2005 5:31:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    benedict are you one of the gang, by the way liar i sent lenchen my book
    we were good friends, and still are why dont you pack your bags as well
    bully boy you wont be missed

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