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MADE IN CORK... EXPORTED TO LONDON,PARIS AND DUBLIN IT IS FROM THE CAPITAL OF IRELAND THAT I AM ADDRESSING THE WORLD - SO PAY ATTENTION. HERE YOU WILL FIND GOOD BANTER, STORIES, LIES AND MORE LIES.MAYBE YOU MIGHT LIKE MY SHORT STORIES, LETTERS, ARTICLES OR POEMS. IF YOU LIKE WHAT YOU SEE TELL THE WORLD, IF NOT KEEP YOUR BLOODY MOUTH SHUT.

Followers

2011-01-10

WHEN SWINGS ARE SILENT

Early morning God is scribbling children’s names
Across the sky

Glancing downwards He beams a warm smile

On the deserted playground

While children sleep he is warming up their little Paradise

No tempting apple trees here

For God is kinder to the young

Daffodils hide their faces

And snigger behind old trees

The wooden playground truck Black and Gold

Sparkles with expectancy

For its long journey to Timbuktu

And beyond

The slippery slide arches its silvery back

Snakelike

But in this Paradise

Innocence is beyond temptation

God – his mornings work done

His creation assured drops his smile

While the pensioner

From his lonely bench beside the playground

Glances upwards

And looks for his scribbled name

In the changing skyline



jim archer





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