A Writer's Wonderland [PDF] - University of Portsmouth

Forsooth quite the skill, to claim stake in both their hearts
And still head held stellar; with expectation to wed rather than reject.
The initial parry has to face question in the gleaming of violence,
More so for the prolific dainty whose skill in fists had not faced war,
And whose sumptuous blood would meet the floor, first.
The fop had no chance and felt at the imperative play of strings,
The esoteric girl with halo had failed –
In the knowledge that his whole was hers and she had left it by the rail side.
Cecil Grove
Red buildings are split with slides of purple on corners,
And balconies, risking nothing but life, hold flowers, reluctant.
Across the alley of Cecil Grove windows stare down at elder counterparts
With cream trim and walkways suited to amateur tight rope-
Artists that resided two centuries ago.
The horizon fell a long time ago, only to have glaring towers supersede its place.
Emerging broken, like a pawn from the battlefield
Comes a girl; her form barely more than shadows,
Following eyes that snake from the darkness; slim, slow and sliding -
While deathly glints shimmer in the cracks of Cecil Grove.
Torn lace hides one shoulder with aplomb and what could only be eternity,
Highlighting empty pupils that glare forthright
At the injustice she lay in her own lap,
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