Picaroon Poetry - Issue #19 - November 2019
Well here we are, rogues and rebels, readers and writers - our last issue of Picaroon until the middle of 2021. I want to thank everyone who appears in this issue - poems about busking and goats, fruitcake and pawn shops, and Christmas and ghosts and so much more - and everyone who has ever sent something our way, been published in other issues, or read what our writers have shared with you.
Well here we are, rogues and rebels, readers and writers - our last issue of Picaroon until the middle of 2021. I want to thank everyone who appears in this issue - poems about busking and goats, fruitcake and pawn shops, and Christmas and ghosts and so much more - and everyone who has ever sent something our way, been published in other issues, or read what our writers have shared with you.
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Nick Carding<br />
that year<br />
winter came early<br />
caught us in autumn colours<br />
shivering<br />
murdering<br />
late blooming roses<br />
blood red petals<br />
tumbling tears<br />
to chilled soil<br />
sullen in defeat<br />
came calling<br />
at your open door<br />
awaiting answers<br />
and you<br />
hospitable as ever<br />
invited winter in<br />
took him<br />
in your loving arms<br />
to dance<br />
enchanted him<br />
and when he left<br />
went with him<br />
leaving next spring<br />
when she arrived<br />
dressed all in black<br />
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