Poetry

Hal G.P. Colebatch: Four Poems

Emergency Ward   In this mad-house Suddenly erupting about me Of orderlies running with trolleys, T-shirted young interns, Bloodstained cops And screams, I look up and keep hold Of the one certain thing: My daughter’s hand Hal G.P. Colebatch     Emergency Ward II What words so lovely As these ones from the intern: “You can go home now”? Hal G.P. Colebatch Matchstick House My mother’s present to me when I was eight years old: A little house she made for me from glued-together matchsticks, with bright flowers drawn against the tiny walls, a red paper roof, and bright curtains…

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