Thunder rumbles and bumbles like an old man angry at everything.
A poem about a future where tech goes very wrong.
There are a lot of giants around. This is one.
When you're a kid, you dream crazy dreams. If you're lucky, the dreams don't entirely go away. Grrr.
Do you fancy a bit of monster poetry? Not poetry by a monster, mind you, but poetry about a monster. Or six.
It was a dark and stormy blog post...
“Hope” is the thing with tentacles –
That lurks in shadowed eave –