Scanitly clad women roam the floors of nighclubs, hotels; Expose flesh on the beach, materialize the lust in men. Now he’s a writer at Hallmark. Does that make sense? Share the happy memories we’ve made, Do not let them wither or fade.
And when the winter’s chill has come. Enjoyed reading some of your samples again tonight.
Good evening Anthony-thanks for time and very welcome,kind comment re'Different kind of war'-much obliged-Stef.
Just 22 years old, he was seemingly invincible — until he wasn’t.
haiku comments all because
You were right with the mentioning of divorce though, because that has consequently always affected my relationships with other people. Cheers for the suggestion over Billy Ramsell. But don't mope around, or get depressed, there's a world to be explored by you. The grey day changes your patterns and scenes.I dance, bringing on a thunderous clap, streaks in the sky charged with the power of spirits, the dead, back to haunt our physical plane.A legion of droplets scour the ... Clouds are my moving treasure, free, abundant, loomingas grey death or simply washing clean a slate of trials.Hush your cries, learn from your stolen promises; the sun is no longer as certain as the expected death of a window, Anthony Dawson Poems - Poems of Anthony Dawson - Poem Hunter. Trade Union Delegate. Early morning changes my colour, Weakens my magnet for you to escape into sleep. That's it, I'm finished, I'm done now, no more advice to you from me and a gap in your life.' 'Affection was an exorcism Fortunes. Thank you for your comment re daddys girl. problem?
kath, Thank you for the kind words Antony - if you want to see more of my work then go to : http://somethingeveryday.tumblr.comwhere I'm creating every day. I love your poem 'Forgiveness' Antony... kath x, Hi Antony, good to see an actual pic of you.
I appreciate your words very much. Constructive comments are so welcome and I agree with this one.
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We've partied many times, maybe too many, some would argue! by being too much the same to me Thanks for describing some of my work as being raw and poignant. Good luck with your words.
Clouds are my moving treasure, free, abundant, loomingas grey death or simply washing clean a slate of trials.Hush your cries, learn from your stolen promises; the sun is no longer as certain as the expected death of a windowfly, and still your anger presides, your control is lost. Dawson was born in Edinburgh, the son of Ida Violet (Kittel) and Eric Francis Dawson. P.S.
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winston, Hi Anthony.
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