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Showing posts from June, 2012

MORE POETRY by EDWARD HUGHES (and some photos)

Langwidge.
In an exhalation, Unnoticed, unbidden, A breath from the Mountain Gods Swept down to some ancient sea. The Ling-Lang it bore crazed us all. Shotgun French, and mistralling, We spent precious lead on a fleeting image We might only ever wing. Yet, the foolish still gibber, And only wise men can sing.
Edward Hughes 2008.

Hanging Out The Washing.

I was only saying to Auntie Hegel the other day, 'Auntie', I said, 'You simply cannot adduce the facts of Religion from Historical Science. There's a stinking canal's breadth deterring any leap of Faith'. That shut her up, I can tell you, But I knew she'd pass it on.

Edward Hughes 2008

Aspiring To Silence.
Naturally, Thank God,
All things, I mean all things, Are meaningless. They wash down the stream, And miss out on the process. Experience is a dream, And Reason is scopeless. Yet, every pulse sings, And every rock poses Awkward questions: Why do the living scream? When might they care less? How springs, but no sources? Where lies the sea to …