Sussex Poems - Poems about Sussex

His name is John Albert Cummings, born 1878 died..... well we are not sure, the stone is much worn. Up we hop on the green mound, dance the frantic dance. The sacrilegious sex adds risqué flavors, drives us into an underworld where flesh struggles atop old bones. Laid out spent on the turf; panting like sheepdogs, we giggle a prayer of thanks. The stars are so clear ---...

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What a stupid situation Twenty foot above the ground But when I reach the bottom I’m nearly half way round It was Ronnie Hatchard said it Hey boys lets have some fun Go back to camp and do The assault course run Nobody had the senses To say stupid idea Just picked up his glass And finished off his beer And now it’s after midnight...

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A misfit among misfits Away from family and friends Wondering was I wrong and Is this how the adventure ends. Had I chosen the wrong course Leaving my little village behind Wracked with doubt and despair That overwhelmed my mind. Sitting on the floor Beginning to think I really shouldn’t have had That last but one drink. Feeling sad, lost, all alone Mind in a drunken...

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His name is John Albert Cummings, born 1878 died..... well we are not sure, the stone is much worn. Up we hop on the green mound, dance the frantic dance. The sacrilegious sex adds risqué flavors, drives us into an underworld where flesh struggles atop old bones. Laid out spent on the turf; panting like sheepdogs, we giggle a prayer of thanks. The stars are so clear...

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My thoughts are caught on a cattle grid Tractor tyres rumble over my ideas The farmer's wife's bosom holds all the secrets To an emporium of scent and voluptuous spheres The bell rings for dinner and the daylight dimmers The cows are a lowing and the z's climb for the clouds It's night time in the Sussex Downs...

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-Honey go to the Dr -April I don't know Am I still alive? -Do it for Us, ours strive -And the watcher what I should say? -Tell him the all system was hacked -The all system was hacked William (Blush) -we going to do some tests now "this guy is one in a million" Two weeks 1000 Doc critiques indecision Deliberation:...

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Because I have so little time, I only hope, for what is mine-- in my blood so dark and hot is a bright and fevered spot-- O let me be, to sing again without the penalty of pain, lest I, before my time, be torn from life, and to the grave be borne-- my nostrils full of soil, my ears stopp'd by grave and...

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