August 2017
At every chevron on every bend, there's a reminder of a new beginning coming after every end.
Mist on the mountains, rolling over the lochan's water, embracing a lost son and a wounded daughter, both trying to get back from following in their father's fading tracks.
Picture: Havenshell
may isle
CONTENTS
- Columns (60)
- Prose poems (24)
- Songs (14)
Welcome
Welcome to 'A Frample', a confused tangle of columns, prose poems and lyrics. It's not so much a blog as an online folder, lying somewhere between a drawer and the bin.
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Carrying cases across an overgrown lawn, Wondering who turned the sprinklers on. Chewing liquorice, clutching at straws Renewing our faith...
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Confused. She's so confused about everything that's going on. Abused. She's been abused since the day she was born. High-viz ...
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December 16, 2018 In many areas of the newspaper industry, core design is now by means of template. To those not familiar with the p...
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Come you Round heads and crowned heads Thick heads and quick heads Come you Hard heads and soft heads Brave heads and shaved heads Wise head...
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Continuing my solo therapy with there not being enough resources for a one-to-one with a professional, deemed not suitable for a group onl...
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The fortress and the last stand. April 25, 2020 Dear Diary – Day 34 of self flagellation and segregation from humankind and viruskind...
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There were always arms, arms to run into, to envelop you and shield you. Arms to defend you and comfort you. You don’t notice when they sta...
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Fife Free Press, August 16, 1996 “ I am not a number” screamed Patrick McGoohan as The Prisoner in the cult TV series. Well, ...
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Now when I talked to God I knew he’d understand He said, "Sit by me and I'll be your guiding hand But don't ask me what I thi...
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The man in the next bed Is as frightened as I am. Both of us scarred by time But our minds clinging to our Perfect spring. No-one ever came ...

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