There were battles in my country, too, but not since 1745.

Did you know they've put Rolf's pictures in the National Gallery? It's a fucking outrage.

Evocative, especially the stuff about clay and glass.

How did your feet protect you? Are they large and cast from iron?

yee-haw.

whatever did you so foolishly do? well, it does not matter. you have ripped a new tear in my heavily-scarred heart. curse you.

you were cleary not a good fit, jack. this is a painful read; you are getting closer. put down that kale gun, wouldja? the thing makes me nervous. here, have a canape, i mean, 10.

A good effort. 7. Can't fault any kind of tribute to the late great Jeff Buckley. Bravo!

A truthful account of many, many mornings. 7. I shall assume that most of the "low voters" are female.

I just thought I'd tell you that I've just had lunch in my university canteen, and outside there were people lying on the floor, covered in fake blood pretending to Iraqi bomb victims. This may not be a very dignified way to protest, and it probably trivialises the whole thing, but it shows opposition to war may well be spreading.

An ode to the lager lout.

Now THAT'S a Haiku! I'd like to see more of these, please.

where can i get a pair of protective feet like that, and why didn't you lend them to your uncle?

As Keats said, as poems do not come as easily as leaves to the tress, you might as well not bother. This is very good.

My first thought was, this is too long. By the end, I was right with you. This is devastatingly sad.

why must she cost so damn much?

Good non-cheesy rhymes, crisp rhythms, a snappy ending - good.

I like Stella Artois, good beer. But, methinks Sierra Nevada Big Foot barleywine would cause a row and a ruction to begin.

"light growing, streetlights ending"? Good haiku.

I'm not sure of the word you're thinking of, limonade, to describe this one, but I'd use "pukeypoo".