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Peter Wicks
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Been through the "mill" and back again,never mince my words in poetry
Been through the "mill" and back again,never mince my words in poetry

20 followers
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Peter Wicks commented on a post on Blogger.
Solitude
Alone at night by a glowing log fire
Bright embers are flickering
Strange dreams they inspire
You slump in your armchair
As you ponder your lot
The stillness is echoed
By the chimes of a clock
It’s two in the morning
Just you and your dog
Asleep by the fireside
As you add a new log
A puffing of steam
Bright yellow flames
It’s crackling and spiting
Yellow brightness again
The shadows are dancing
Around things short and tall
Painting strange pictures
On ceilings and walls
This time is your own
No dragons to slay
This solitude you crave for
Many others invade
These moments are precious
You’re own space and time
A solitude of silence
Of times which are mine
Peter Wicks
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 Satan’s Priestess (Sarah Palin)
 
Sorcerer of Arctic snows
Death and destruction
Your evil does sow
 
The pure white arctic
Is stained bright red
Animals are butchered
Sacrifices to Satan
His priestess has bled
 
The devil in black
Or Texas Tea
Crude oil
To you and me
 
Drill and kill
The call of the wild
Slaughter the whales
The great Polar Bear
Satan’s Priestess
Just could not care
 
Bribe all the natives
With mountains of cash
Dig up their homeland
With open-cast mines
Destroying the environment
Gone forever
Till the end of time
 
The devil is Shell
With BP drilling crews
Who pay the Priestess?
For Satan’s deeds
As the top of the world
Just slowly bleeds
Arctic Roar:
Arctic Roar:
savethearctic.org
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Invaluable tool for poor spellers and senile old farts like me  
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The Brat’s
 
 
 
Mummies cherished little darlings
Or Daddies handsome little chaps
But in every truth and honesty
Is nothing less than little brats
 
 
 
Screaming winging little toe-rags
Who grab everything they see
Bulling other little kids with impunity
 
 
 
But these mums and dads are blinked
And point-blank refuse to see
That they’re little darling angels
Is the new menace to society?
 
 
 
Greedy selfish little tykes
With manners worse than pigs
These little Britons of future years
So glad it’s not my kid!
 
Peter Wicks
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