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the old home
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Prior work
It will never be like this again.
Just yesterday this house was alive;
Today it's empty, yet again.
This makes one think about tomorrow.
The old oaken door is the keeper,
Letting the joy in, keeping sorrow out;
Yet harbours both in a special way.
Within this house memories abound:
Who among them on that chair did sit?
What parties gathered this table round?
Where are the children, leaving bare
The nursery, the attic once filled with toys?
Draughts pulsing with life in the stairwell,
Swatches of talk in the empty rooms
Warm cozy kitchen heart of the home;
Yes, never to be like this again.
Time will soon send us all a-packing
Then only ghosts shall wander the halls;
In an age where past yields to present,
When grand old walls give way to malls.
.
You are amazing
In following a recent reading-writing spree, and already exhausted from it, I am amazed at your ability to forge forth. Your sword suits you well.
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not
Just like the Potomac in the
Just like the Potomac in the winter, we need to push toward our independence of soul and expression!
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
ouija touché
ouija touché
postcard from the seine
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not
...lovely to touch, but the
...lovely to touch, but the real river’s under our feet, and it’s already moving us forward!
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver