'in memorium Peter Shoobridge and his daughters'
Gentle poet what drove you to this extreme?
Something from your private living hell?
Severing the hand that took your daughters lives,
you placed a rifle to your head.
There was no audience when the shot rang out,
and the curtain fell on the silence of the dead.
Explanation: Peter Shoobridge a writer-poet, slit
Tuesday, November 6, 2007