Best Poem of Jack Peppiatt

A Day At The Beach
The sun rises slowly,
All is peaceful, almost holy.
We laugh in the blood red sunrise,
Lying down on the beach.

The sun is right up high,
hoverring there in the sky.
We laugh in the bright midday,
Lying down on the beach.

The sun sets brightly,
The moon shimmers lightly.
We . . .
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Death Of A Home
The desecrated remains of a razed home
smoulder at my feet. A touch of warmth permeates
my shoes, nibbles at my toes. The ash embers steadily,
a soft, humble glow radiates into the morning as
a diluted sun grudgingly drags daylight into the bleak
November morning.

Ash is unsettled by my sheepish step . . .
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