Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Room 205
What could walls tell now of Dylan Thomas
speak to me of love and death
of madness of a kind he sometimes knew
beneath the paper cracks of genius
nothing left in his decay only
ghostly words once played so well
on an old typewriter with some letters lost
and he blunted by another whisky
embraced a welcome rush to die
and cut the loss
as floor boards squeak in vain
little drama left to fit
the bill in Hotel Chelsea.
poem
by
Alan Halford
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black