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Author Archives: Malcolm Henshall
Sole Man
I am 45, ride a pushbike, wear a gabardine raincoat, belonged to my Dad, never washed. I live with my mum over the fish and chip shop. Like the batter on the haddock my mother’s love clings to me, dripping … Continue reading
Just in it for the Parking
I am a man I am a man I am a man born of a woman who was fit and healthy I am a man born of a woman who had an unseen virus I am a man whose father … Continue reading
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You Can’t Judge a Book…
It was one of those strange places where one road full of shabby houses with old bikes, mattresses and empty beer bottles in the gardens, not to mention the St. Georges flag hanging from the window of number 35, ran … Continue reading
Sanctuary
At my age I should not be ashamed or embarrassed of what I like. There should be no secrets guilty or not. But mine for the sake of this poem is a love for the TV series ‘Nashville’. People might … Continue reading