the morning was, and she believed; the autumn, shy and reticent came timidly to call her name. the angels fell like leaves in droves and she a purple memory lived within a house, a home, a dream. the languor that comes easily can bring us rest, if we but see -- the morning came, and … Continue reading "languor"
we write to show, or to express, and we're all different (I guess) in how it feels to feel desire or when we might see blue in fire. and while I struggle here with rhyme, there's others deep in story time; or gazing on a lone wind chime as it provides its music -- with … Continue reading "nano seconds"
across the pages, towering and slow, the words and phrases, measured and precise; the aching, felt first centuries ago, contained within a uniform device that tells what beats and syllables to use. although some variations are allowed, some things to add, a few that you can lose, pentameter, both lyrical and proud, contains within its … Continue reading "Sonnet Boom"
we're so unlike, we could be twins, which does not even make much sins, but that's just how we roll 'round here: shoot from the hip, then pop a beer let us look deeply into our own blindness, examining deeply everything we can't see; for the sources of our problems are many, but we remain … Continue reading "drivel me this…"
the coming together makes the being apart worthwhile love tastes like what you meant to have rather than what you had back before you even knew what it meant to have
you love love over all me and I will always other things love you, because triumph always, always
no one allowed the inner sanctum a temple choices made the price of being curious
whisper where the wind blows west, murmur as your mind-paths meld into yellow yesterdays by the vanishing beheld -- leaves are rustling, and soft grows a feeling, undefined: susurration, sounds that say, you need not leave everything behind He hears the Words she whispered once She meant them And really loved him That one lost … Continue reading "susurration"
Defining yourself By what you cannot do Is arbitrary in the extreme Since the number of such things Is infinite. In truth, we are The sum of all the things We do, or have done. Worrying about limitations Is like worrying about Not winning at the Olympics When you aren’t even entered. The best days … Continue reading "Algorithm & Blues"