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molly
Posts: 36
Comments: 111
with my pen and my computer I am lost in a world of fantasy
1 votes
molly's Calendar
May, 2012
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3 poem (3)
2 rest (2)
2 blog (2)
2 n' (2)
1 i.r.s.t (1)
1 p.o.e (1)
molly - Blogs - molly's blog - Posts
23 March, 201023 March, 2010 1 comments THE GEORGE ROBB FISHING TRAWLER THE GEORGE ROBB FISHING TRAWLER Views: 208
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      THE GEORGE ROBB (the Aberdeen  fishing trawler December 1959 )   The George Robb fishing trawler perished near the Duncansby  Head Cliff's only fifty yards from shore, one of the crew escaped from  the st... Read more
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13 March, 201013 March, 2010 5 comments A CHILD'S DOMAIN A CHILD'S DOMAIN Views: 218
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Whar's that  keeping me awake, it's those birds at day break. Their chorus at dawn. is saying "it's a fine morning and spring is dawning."   Flowers are taking root they are showing little shoots and gardeners start to weed to... Read more
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24 February, 201024 February, 2010 4 comments My arena post  poem My arena post poem Views: 163
1 votes
 I have tried with all my might to put my story up in lights in the arena its up there ,but the description is going nowhere. I have tried with all my might  to put the problem right Sweet revenge is my despair,and  it;s going nowhe... Read more
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15 February, 201015 February, 2010 2 comments A mothers anguish The rest of the poem. A mothers anguish The rest of the poem. Views: 229
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A  MOTHERS  ANGUISH   She lies in a hospital bed., her eyes swollen and red,she weeps. Her mind; in a turmoil and despair, and she knows she is going no where.   babies in a bedroom sleep. strength up she knows she cannot ... Read more
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15 February, 201015 February, 2010 0 comments The rag man The rag man Views: 121
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  The rag nan comes down our street, he blows a trumpet, no notes just a bleep. woollens and rags he cry;s  from his lorry as he passes by.   Auntie Roses dress looks neat ,  when playing housewives in the street, but I th... Read more
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10 February, 201010 February, 2010 4 comments A CHILD'S DOMAIN A CHILD'S DOMAIN Views: 113
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The rag man comes down our sreet. He blows a trumpet, No notes, just a bleep,a woollens and rags he cry;s from his lorry , as he passes by  
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