Life. Poem by Paul John Roach

LIFE by Paul John Roach Life. It’s precarious. My dad was taken (As they say) At 52, Which I consider young Being now 67 And hoping For a few more good years. The length of days Is immaterial, of course, The 27 Club, for instance, D H Lawrence 45 Shakespeare 52 Elvis 42. What are […]

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Raccoon, Poem by Paul John Roach

Raccoon With a three pronged garden tool I lifted the animal’s lumpish head beyond the chimney flange and it lay, pivoted on its neck, looking down on me, so young and light-eyed that it startled me into thinking it was still alive. I put the tool down and with a gloved hand gently pulled it […]

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