EDENBRAY visits - Number of Hits on this site
- 234 hits
- WHITE POST – TWO
- BATHSHEBA’S PROMISE
- WALK WITH ME A LITTLE WAY
- BOB DYLAN .. .
- ITS A BAILEY
- ITS A BAILEY
- LISTEN .. .
- FACING UP .. .
- AND ANOTHER THING .. .
- Enter – the Thief
- IN THE LAND OF NEVER WAS
- CHILD .. .
- TRIBUTE TO JAMES GANDOLFINI
- EXTRA OUTTA JAILHOUSE ROCK
- ARNO’S FIRE
- EDINBVRGH ~ YOU ARE A ROCK TO ME …
Hours & Info9.00 ~ 17.00
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Author Archives: edenbray
And Another Thing .. . . Our expectations dwindle as we grow older which is a sad thing. We should always expect more than we can accomplish and reach for the unattainable. Like a relay-runner stretches to grasp the baton … Continue reading
Enter – the Thief ”’ Mercy is, yes mercy me, I find the battered key Opening dreams of mysterious dances you could not see Or touch, or feel, or understand with your mind Speaking words that glisten as fairy-dust that … Continue reading
HORSE .. .. One day I will walk off the face of the earth and there will be a kind of silence A gentle wind blowing, rustling the taller grasses, caught in golden clusters A bird’s call lost in the … Continue reading
In The Land Of Never Was I started ‘writing’ when I was fifteen just before I left school and yes, fifteen was too young to be leaving school but as we say – ‘that’s the way you did it in … Continue reading
Nineteen I said when I was nineteen I would lead a useful life. Throw off the angst of adolescence, become a man of endeavour and history but do we ever really achieve? Even when we have scaled the walls of … Continue reading
CHILD – O’ weary me O’ weary be the sight of sun the smell of sea the yawn of death the bite of flea – I give nothing but a hand a word, an arm a coin, a kiss the … Continue reading
Tribute to James Gandolfini .. . You can travel down the road, check on every vine, you can travel down the road, you can travel down the line. But there were few like Jimmy. He was homemade wine. Honest, good, pure, nothing … Continue reading
I Wanna Be Free There’s no joy in my heart, only sorrow And I’m sad as a man can be I sit alone in the darkness of my lonely room And this room is a prison to me I look … Continue reading
ARNO’S FIRE . .. The swollen Arno overflows, only the wicked river knows A trail of umber sediment, borrowed nuggets of rose-gold Beneath the merchants tables, its soft, princely belly gored The flower of the Medici on laden, merchant-vessels moored … Continue reading