Biography of jerry hughes
Frankly it's a miracle I can write. Born dyslexic I had to be a dunce at school, and I was. Persistence, and a little voice within told me I could learn just as well at the school of hard knocks, and I did.
What you'll read in my writing is a gaggle of experiences, love, lust, hurt and pain. My loathing of war, especially the miserable bastards who promote and profit by it.
Also a life-long support for the not so fortunate with whom I relate. If you find a spelling mistake or two, that's the way flip flops.
jerry hughes's Works:
You Did Alright Kid
Bits & Pieces
Goodbyes Aren't Easy
jerry hughes Poems
Hone Tuwhare's: Rain
Rain I can hear you making small holes
'I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree' A single leaf makes its own history. Attached to the bough from which it
A Message To My Father
My beloved father, the last time we met in company with your confidant and friend Abu, we spoke of many things. Most importantly the history I'd lost in the
He saw her, and knew he had to meet her, this elfin girl with bobbed hair and an oval face. Eyes as big as saucers, and lips,
It was cold and wet and there he was, sitting on a park bench, sorting his worldly posessions
In my minds-eye I conjure you as would an enchanter, playing to a crowd of one.
In a quiet dream I saw you walk toward then pass yourself
She rode the stallion bareback, pressed against his spine. They galloped free together, it simply blew her mind.
An Aussie Summer
The sun rises early. 'Bloody daylight saving.' Birds fly. Grasses grow. The Victa's primed and
After The First Death*
Amidst the rubble and confusion a child's hand clutching a toy.
Ye gods, eighty one! Who'd have thought it? Certainly not I. So there's one delightful
In The Name Of The Father
In the name of the Father, Crusaders sallied forth raping and murdering.
I used to pass it on my way to school, an eerie place with a tumbled-down fence and gates that groaned on windy days.
Death Of A Daughter
With a convulsed help me, she collapsed to the floor filthy and stinking.
Her naked body peeling as she ran
mouth wide open, screaming in fear and pain.
This image of a Vietnamese girl-child,
an innocent victim of a a napalm attack,
made the front page of newspapers
all around the world.
Still the war sent on.
The photographer won an award.