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
It was cold and wet and there he was, sitting on a park bench, sorting his worldly posessions
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.
Hot Summer Night
It was stifling in bed yet you lay with a sheet undulating with your breath, like a sail in a gentle breeze.
We of the human race do solemnly swear, we will not perish by nuclear holocaust or any other wrath.
If you didn't spend time in the bush during the middle of the last century, you wouldn't understand the significance of the 'outside dunny.'
'Sorry if I offend.' she said quietly. 'Offend? ' I asked quizzically. 'Your sensitivities, ' she replied. We were strap-hanging in a
I saw an old chap standing under a stairwell gazing up at mini-skirted girls walking up, or down.
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.