Lemon broth may not exist my love, but maybe you could make it, then let the locals scoff and shout that they will not take it. A pie a pudding a pretty soufflé is what they expect to see. But let your imagination play - it matters not to me. My brain is braising from … Continue reading Spinning Nonsense
Poetry
Dear sir…
I should not have to fight for decency, courtesy, mercy or time to understand the things you did or the reasons why. Sincerely...
The Lonely Few
I am so fixated on rhyming Or finding the perfect time, I miss the point And start tracing lines through life Wondering why I have wasted So much of it Being afraid of failure. Then finding out far too late How much I have missed. Some people find success straight away, Off they go, blazing … Continue reading The Lonely Few
Doomscroll
Information overload Has got you off in your little world, deep into that hole out of reach of your overlord, or so you believe, and then the screen glows bright blue and you do what you are supposed to – scroll and scroll your soul away; a friendlier fix than cocaine. Dopamine Is your new … Continue reading Doomscroll
Crossing the threshold
Crossing the threshold she enters the cold cobweb covered lounge, And wonders what awaits her, Cradled in the cryptlike bedroom upstairs. He loosens his tie and lights a fire Says nothing, not even an expression Of desire towards her. The creaks of brittle floorboards fill her with a longing to fall through them to a … Continue reading Crossing the threshold
Between bumblebees and foxgloves
I heard them in their hundreds Humming in Unison as they hoarded the spoils. The foxgloves freely invited them in, Lovingly opened up While the world around them Quietened. They remained Undisturbed In their secret summer solace, Unburdening one another Of ordinary woes, Telling prayers and dreams to each other Unbeknownst even to the tadpoles … Continue reading Between bumblebees and foxgloves
Apparently
Apparently my head is always in the clouds, and that I should not speak so loud. Apparently my moods always change, or I am just "too bloody strange". Apparently you are absolutely right, when you say I am not that bright. or that I am easily lead astray, and even walk in a weird way. … Continue reading Apparently
Seed
I was buried deep beneath the clay Not yet aware of the daylight. Curled up and cloistered, feeling the hours pass away while shadows slipped through earthworm tunnels. Gradually I grasped some sense to reach for soil below; gravity - my clarity, all I cared to know. Then it one day occurred to me that … Continue reading Seed
Untitled
What do I do now? Where will I go? Must the sun set on all that I believe I know? Then again, What do I know? I must know some things . . . At least, I used to think so.
First
Raining hard again . . . Your lips against mine, at last! I sigh, excited.
Ardent Writing 