eileen's poem collation number XII

what could i do but run

that one poem

altho i knew

retro_ spect

oh jesus!

i've stumbled on his poems

and fallen in love

what could i do but run

that one poem

altho i knew

retro_ spect

oh jesus!

i've stumbled on his poems

and fallen in love

Wild Raspberries  by Paul Gurrieri

A kaleidoscope of colorful treasures

in every shade from carrot to cardinal,

collected and waiting to be enjoyed

a bushel of miniature taste miracles.

Delectably tangy

Delightfully moist

Perfectly sweet

They overflow from the black silk bandana,

my eyes think of Halloween and the splendor

of autumn leaves, for every tiny reddish orange flavor grenade

that tumbles to the ground. I snatch at one, saving it

and I place it gently on my tongue, with electric anticipation.

Psychotically delicious

Incomparably Refreshing

Wild Raspberries

eileen’s

reply

electric rasperry tingle

sight and sound

swamp me

black silk beneath

reddish orange flavoured tongue

tumbles me

the ground i snatch at

anticipation delicious

refreshing

psychotic

wild

naked

raw

heart

felt

:o)

ed. the above is a reply to

Forsaken

by Frank James Davis

Funny what occurs to you

or doesn't, when everything

once precious

in your world

exits the door; pausing only

long enough

to tear your heart out

and toss it

in her handbag.

Surpassing even

my searing sense of loss,

the thing

most plaguing me

was--no matter how

hard I tried

--I simply could not

recall our last kiss.

Felt an insistent

prodding

that, somehow

this might be important.

Then, my heretofore

in-coma conscience

suddenly reawakened

forcing me

to remember

what was now

quickly emerging

as shameful

and devastating proof

of my, much earlier,

abandonment

of her.

drunk

Jesus! that was scarey i forgot what time it was

almost opened the curtains and

I'd just closed them

drunk

Jesus! that was scarey i forgot what time it was

almost opened the curtains and

I'd just closed them

His poems

his poems

an ocean

to dive into

and

become

to leave them

i feel

beached

to drown and to be saved

why

the brain

is

such a mysterious creature

involuntary

extraordinary

anything but ordinary

why is it

such a separate thing

from  “me”

i will probably cry tomorrow

the arborist is coming

he will cut limbs

from my golden elm

no longer will they almost climb

into my roof

birds will still nestle in her branches

declaring their territories at dawn and dusk

but she will be without hands

for awhile

edge

because we're without

boundaries

we live life on the edge

because we have no

boundaries

we balance on a ledge

looking up

looking down

looking all around

because we're without

bounderies

do not our bets hedge

edge

because we're without

boundaries

we live life on the edge

because we have no

boundaries

we balance on a ledge

looking up

looking down

looking all around

because we're without

bounderies

we do not hedge our bets

from the tiniest of creatures

to the furthest of stars

all things exist within each other

dissolution

and all things

return to their essence

what has come

returns

from whence it came

to chaos and the void

what was in between

is as never existed

Really not sure about this one was walking on a winter beach thinking about infinity any comments at all (critical too) are very welcome as it was partly deliberately "written" and didn't just arrive of it's own accord...;o)

Enigma

if i cup your face

in my hands

and gaze at you

intently

will the thousand

truths

you keep

hidden

be openly displayed

The 13 word poem

words

never useless

often are

they let you

in but

put up bars

The 12 word poem

words

never useless

often are

they let you

in but

put up bars

ed. reply  to

A clock without time

is the way i often rhyme

and life is a mime

tho this sometimes suits me

fine

i agree what seems really clear to the writer is often obscure to the reader

ed. the above poem is my reply to a now lost hello poetry 10 word poem called concussion ! : o)

Weather bane

beautiful red in the sky this morning

reminds me of that shepherds warning

there was no red in the sky last night

so maybe the weather warnings right

there might be rain during today

oh wind please come drive it away

although the garden needs it's boon

I'd rather clear skies so sun shine soon

I have not a clue why rhyming ditties run thro my head when i'm 'absent' in daydream i don't even like the results but put them up anyway for what is embarrassment but a self inflicted wound Lol

6.45am

Full moon

on the west side

while sun rises

on the east

sights such as these

bring me to my knees

to be blessed

by such a feast

standing in my garden   sun has not quite risen   magic    i'm sure time stops   The moon still shining high in the west as the sun starts to appear in the east  you could almost split the sky in half the horizons look so different yet part of each other

Frozen silence

Full moon

frosted grass

silence

time

stopped

then dawn

and birdsong

seconds before sunrise

skies were gorgeous this morn love the way the full moon shines on 1 side as the sun is rising on the other amazing

and all was quiet

i do love a night sky and often feel i could just step onto/into it

new mowed lawn

got a rather large

rabbit

hopping round my garden

without even

a beg your pardon

Love light shone

i dreamed of winning you

with my charms

i dreamed of lying in your arms

i dreamed of how our lives might be

but dreams are not dreams when they become

reality

Love light shone

i dreamed of winning you

with my charms

i dreamed of lying in your arms

i dreamed of how our lives might be

but dreams are not dreams when they become

reality

on thinking about how lovers can be cruel in tender moments

night sky

if you turn the world

upside down

you will see

a carpet of stars

was just a thought that flittered thro when looking at the sky

seemed a bit simple but i was wishing i could walk on the sky

idle

sometimes

thinking about doing something

can be almost

as tiring

as

doing it

;o)

Supposing

it's round and round and round i go

where will i end up?

that i don't know

i just suppose to suppose i suppose....

it's round and round and round i go

being in the garden seems to bring on those how many clouds etc etc thoughts and i wonder why i wonder Lol

Sadomasochism in the garden

As I plunge the blade towards her heart

She wraps her arms around me

I wrestle her off to plunge again

she clings on tight, fights on in vain

We feint and parry though she stands in one spot

For she is a rose rambler and pruning my lot

Winter pruning while the suns out and pondering the sanity of keeping an English garden... ;o

Why  2 ?

Neuroeconomisist

he visits emotions a tourist sampling foreign dishes

savouring this one regecting another

not returning to ones that don't fit his wishes

returns to his life of no end and no start

then looks forward not back

without content

heart

at 55

i can feel

the

process

of

people withdrawing

children distance

acquaintances die

no longer a person

more than 1/2 way to a corpse

old

skin

shrinks back

sunken

skeletal like

skull

shows thro

pink

flesh

exposed

by

sparse hair

woolen

underwear clings

to wretched

skin

shrunken back

sparse hair

clings

to

black

clothes

Aging can look unattractive but there is some beauty in the dying process

as rivers bend

clouds fill the sky

i too so bend

wish i could fly

altho i do often in thought and non thought...;o) thanks  andrew 

meld

this desire to consume you

to dissolve your very blood cells into mine

we become

temporary

come

become

separate

cells

divide

subside

solidify

sigh

sublime

sweat

slides

taking my leave

i'm dying and i know it

don't have the time to talk

however here i am

instead of going for that walk

the trees blow in the wind

it sighs thro leaves of gold

i wish i had the strength to stay

too sad too tired too old

old carpet

flowers faded

petals torn

pattern on

my carpet worn

dusty tread

frayed thread

i'll buy a new one

instead

description of my old hall runner

self reflection

she stands on the brink

looking down

why does she bother

with this clown

she treats her badly

ignores her pleas

laughs at the sight

of her on her knees

over she goes tumbling down

victim to this awful clown

herself

1/2 way to 56

time

when your 5 it has no meaning

by 7 it means mealtimesbedtimesplaytimes school

16 it seems to stretch again

but not like that of aged 5

just endless waits to be 18

there is too much you haven't seen

18 not nearly old enough so much to get so much to do

you think that time always waits for you

then 28 starts to feel a little late you've realize the mistake

time doesn't go on it has a break

35 are you alive?

life swallowed up in others lives...

ah 55!

time to “revive” go on and on till all days ends

and “time” has gone around the bend

without

you

a few thoughts on “time” ;o)

Early one morning

how many bends in all the rivers

how many clouds to fill the sky

idle questions answered never

why do i ask them

know not i

Early one morning

how many bends in all the rivers

how many clouds to fill the sky

idle questions answered never

why do i ask them

know not i

rewind

I'd like a re wind of my life

at a slower pace

where nothing causes any strife

and i turn up the ace

no bumpy road

no sad mistakes

life is all twinnings and

cupcakes

this is my dream

a silly one

no wonder im flat

on my bum

life as a garden party would be boring indeed if that were all it was   threw me a short pity party last night   writing the poem enabled me to laugh at myself again   ;o)

u cannot go thro life aiming to live it as others want to suit them altho we do waste yrs doing so

in gold leaf litter

electric blue wrens

black birds sing

day

ends

just more of the same?

i cannot tell the differance between what heals me

and what hurts

am i

moving forward or

making a mistake

is it

infinity given

or merely

me being

self riven

pondering depression, courses of action/paths chosen

self blind

how does it come to this after everything we've been

so many things i thought i knew

now realize

just seen

self blind

how does it come to this after everything we've been

so many things i thought i knew

now realize

just seen

Riches

this is my garden at it's best

when golden elm

her leaves

she doth divest

I really like this  one, made me smile,

extremely descriptive and full of several meanings?

was only pondering that same thought myself as i swear sometimes i can see all my old destroyed poems

cluttering up the corners of the house

jumbled words and letters in tangled piles... ;o)

really good poem Andrew...

satin sheet

breeze

ruched

pale

gold

water

revealed

by

rising

moon

which

is

lovelier

autumn hues

the brilliant hues

of autumn

dripping

from

the trees

piling up

around

their trunks

almost

to

my knees

scarlet red

and

russet brown

form

deep

puddles

on the ground

gold

medallions

from the elm

worth more than

coins of the realm

the elm is a masterpiece :o)

Lol this one made me laugh   it's quite funny and so reminds me of my kids (grown up now)  oldest a boy   used to do the same thing to youngest sisters dolls

middle child a girl used to do that to her own and transform them into goth girls not barbie like at all... ;o)

ed. reply  to

division

detached

and

disenchanted

we dance

at chasms edge

i look for ladder bridges

you

gaze up at

the stars

stargazing is a lovely pastime the vastness seduces    like the ocean can    it frees the mind,  takes it wandering... ;o)

metamorphosis

does

the

butterfly

remember

the

caterpillar

apparently it does... which i discovered after i wrote this old poem while thinking about how one goes thro so many changes in life the past can feel like someone else's almost    an    interesting  article  for anyone interested in such facts which i find
fascinating ;o)

love?

we dance

in primitive

ingrained

patterns

persistent

repetitious

mating

rituals

sunset

the sun pours liquid gold

honey flows through the window

motes ripple

and swim in the stream

grey

cold wind slants rain

in from an iron sky

  ocean dirty churns throwing pebbles on the beach

 it was a rather stark day so if i've managed to convey that im happy :o)

grey

cold wind slants rain

in from an iron sky

ocean dirty churns throwing pebbles on the beach

constellations

frozen

yet

moving

under

you

i

am

crushed

your

fires

flare

i

see

them

not

thinking about stars gallaxies universes and realizations of how our small   “ambitions”  are compared   how we lose sight of that

was intrigued by your comment so I looked up the man, the poem, (which i really like) and the book he wrote "Walden" (the whole "experiment") is quite facinating i have also tried living in a similar fashion once in a 3 roomed humpy off the power grid growing food, hunting (partner did that bit Lol) and using solar power working towards self sustaining living

have lived sort of close to that "ideal" in a few places

it's quite work intensive and certainly keeps your feet on the ground and in touch with what is "real"

don't live like that now but i do like to keep things simple as so much of what we chase after is not "real" if anything ever is....

solitude is its own reward and people really don't get enough of it easier to stay harnessed if you don't think too much about it i suppose otherwise.....

Thanks Charles :o) i've enjoyed it you caught the allusions very well

ed. reply  to

i like being my own ruler... :o)

alone

or not

value

wot

you

got

it

don't

last

long

and

soon

you

will

be

gone

;o)

being in a wrong relationship is worse than being alone

ed. reply  to

been in a relationship that became violent

bearing the brunt

left it it and that wasn't easy

you become so small

in your own self esteem

really doubt

the scars

don't become that

more like

never quite heal

wounds

that open

again

too easily

you paint quite a picture

well written...

writing helps ;o)

ed. reply  to

paved with gold

setting

sun

on

wet

pavement

sheets

of

molten

gold

vapour rises

curls

around my feet

it is rather gorgeous i agree only seen it once myself who would have thought concrete could be so transformed....  i suppose a lot of man made   can be by   “ nature ”

the flavour of thought

the

thought

of

you

passes

across

my tongue

like

the

taste of

bitter coffee

frayed

if

love

is

subject

to

too much

friction

will it

wear

out

as

even

the sturdiest

of

fabrics

do?

open

infinity

supreme

ironist

i thought

offered me

no answers

merely

hollow

laughter

then

i realized

i was not

asking the

right

questions

and impatience ruled me

there are answers

given

if

you are open

and empty of self?

sometimes i wait

like a vessel

on the beach

the tide washes in

falling up

sometimes

when i look up

at

the sky

it

has a depth

an

inwardness

that makes

me

feel as

if

i'm

falling

in  to

it

what is it about the heavans that so hypnotize as does the ocean,  is it the vastness that makes one feel so small or that they make one really think

Wow!

so into another

i drink deep of it

am that way with my love

he smells so sublime

thankyou

ed. reply  to

Sweet.... :o)

when i die

i will lie

in the snow flakes

on my face

midst swirling grace

they fly

will i...

ed. reply  to

a thousand ways to live

but

one

outcome

illusions shattered never mattered

i will die

all is un

done

ed. reply  to

empty but for us

i wish

i could

just grab you

come and take you by the hand

run off to

a

beach

somewhere

trail toes

through pristine sand

waves

the only sound i hear

filling up

my

head

upon days end

the

perfect close

sunset

beach

pillow

bed

old love

they are

your

loves

your

infinite

loves

those first

fallen into

young loves

mine

comes

so late

a torn

old

love

dirt

real

but

still

star kissed

lost words

words

strewn

around the room

scattered across

the

floor

little

piles

of

heartfelt

i

dont

want

no more

lost

un    finished

poems

willfully

destroyed

poems

just

too

fucking personal

poems

sweep them

out the door

pause

a

mish

mash

of

absolute trash

my

poems

or

any

thing

that

gives me pause

nothing

what does the sea know

what does the sky know

eternal indifferance to all they know

what do you know

what do i know

nothing of what they know

is the days

rough

path

ever smooth

deepen it does

;o)

ed. reply  to

Bipolar

well you've done it again

made me feel like shit

is that a natural talent or did you practice

(oh how you've practiced)

you

with your attitude to women

cos they didn't turn out the soft centred

sweets your so addicted to

so tired of these power games     (is that what they are....?)

you go away then ph when i'm at work     (you knew that)

then do the same thing AGAIN the next day...!!?

"between you not being home

and the computer"......

?????????

untrue

i've stayed offline

most of the time

in case you phoned..... "sigh"

i knew you would

do what you did

didn't

what is that

An upset rant at an absent lover.... ;o)

chance adventure

what is that

off to you i take my hat

ed. reply  to

self

i see what you do

it is so clear

holding close

what you hold dear

you pay your way

perform your tricks

protect yourself from

the cold hard nix

do any of us not perform

grey day

God it's raining end of summer!

dreary days

the garden not worth longing gaze

dull

grey

wet

maybe i should get a pet?

autumn

leaves

and winter comes

should i get out the wellingtons

winter can be really wet and overlong here in Tasmania

what is age anyway

she's putting the last of her juice

on the page

he's treating the world

as if it's his stage

both telling the other to

go

act your age

their lives not a play

but a buried one page

life is often petty    rating a one page story in the news if we are unlucky only to be wrapped around last nights dinner scraps and binned

"There must have been something I neglected to do, because I did lose her"

Your not alone in that Frank everymans fate perhaps for even those that don't leave leave...

women have an unquenchable desire to be constantly appreciated by man and for love love and more love I'm not sure any man can fill that

good poem I so empathised with it, both sides of...

ed. reply  to

The thin edge or shall i call it sex on sunday

that tone of voice you have

you know the one?

the thin sharp edge of amusement threaded through the wide band of self satisfaction

as you tell me

how you've never felt better

and a visit would have been nice

for sex

on sunday

but never mind

you say

i got a lot done

Feelings of rejection after a sometimes somewhat reluctant lover decides a visit would have been sweet after all

it's 7pm and your not here

never believe the promises made

by an addict in the cold

light

of

dawn

for when midnight

falls

and the siren's song sounds

those

promises

cannot

be

heard

Addictions come in many forms

Sometimes...

different paths we tread

pull us apart

too far

for common ground

sometimes

the gulf between us

yawns so wide

i feel

we cannot touch

sometimes

different speeds we travel

to get to the same place

seems to take us

in opposite directions

sometimes

when i hear your voice

or see your face

all pain recedes and

nothing matters

Thinking about loved ones

No big deal

to be in love

is

as big a deal

as

the ocean is wide and

the sky is

deep

it takes me

to

the

moon

makes

me

mellow

sometimes it's extraordinary

often

very

ordinary

reply to a lovers comment that being in love is nothing special

i cry you cry we cry

why do you love me better after you've made me cry

i become supplicant and your love swells

you become sweet again

tender

loving concern pours forth as i lie

spent

on the floor

exhausted

is it exacted punishment on all women?

she who sent you to that place of inhumanity?

that destroyer of boys

men

and ultimately

women

will that ever change

About a lover who was sent to boarding school at the tender age of 7 and still struggles to relate to women in a realistic way

 Golden elm sheds her dress

gold medallions

spread over the lawn

a lace tablecloth

fit for faerie queen

Autumn here at the moment and it's often a really beautiful season as if the summer is dying in a blaze of glory which I suppose it is....

we are all

just part

of

the cycle

of

decay

heavans heave in silence

I used to wear....

                                   jim boots!

they really were a sight  (covered in fabric paint pics)

but on my feet

                   when i walked the street.....

       they made me feel quite lite... ;o)

jim boots would now be converse

ed. reply  to

scented air sun warmed soft breeze

butterflies drift my eyes do please

creamy roses nod their heads

  i want to sleep in their petal strewn beds

a languid afternoon sitting in the garden

scented air sun warmed soft breeze

butterflies drift my eyes do please

creamy roses nod their heads

i want to sleep in their petal strewn beds

A languid afternoon sitting in the garden

dawn woke yawned and stretched

across the coming day

gulping

she swallows the night sky

ed. reply  to

just be

you

don't

think about

who

that

is

just be

you

dont

think about

who

that

is

waves sigh

across the sand

sunset

orange breakers

roll across eastern skies

sunset

orange breakers

roll across eastern skies

   all men masturbate,  even if they are just speaking !

   all men masturbate, even if they are just speaking !

‘ Bluebell Blue ’  by edward ryles

Sitting beneath the magnolia tree

hoping to write an ode for thee  —

yet hopeless this task for me

hearing the singing of the bumble bee

drinking heartily from the bluebell horn

as squirrels stash and hoard acorn

the world alive this wondrous morn

these things your world does adorn

here I sit three score and three

remembering my love so willingly

yet love’s, love so fleetingly

hold tight this precious memory

t’would seem in life I’ve stumbled through

still trying to write an ode for you  —

Alas! Nothing I’ve written will ever do

so paint my heart sad bluebell blue.

eileen  replies

I love that poem  :o)  I'm right there in the garden watching those squirrels and listening to the bees  .  .  .  .

Really transporting Edward

I oft lament it is true

an ode to love I cannot do

i try to frame with words

so fair

they disappear into the air

my love so tender

eludes expression

this poetry writing

a torture session

why do i spend so much time

angsting over (willthisrhyme?)

am i fat?

or are am i thin?

do i have the right

wherein....  

where·in (hwâr-n, wâr-)

adv.

In what way; how: Wherein have we sinned?

conj.

1. In which location; where: the country wherein those people live.

2. During which.

3. In what way; how:

all such empty

prattling

DIN!!!!!

lovers

friends

family

we all

end in

the re cycle

bin

a mix of a ditty like rhyme that 1/2 popped in with some i lines i tried conciously to write

one

star

sliver of moon

black

tree tops

against

cerulean skies

umber

glow

swirl of

mist

glitter of

frost

my

toes

was out in the garden at dawn looking up at the sky

drawing a line from the star down to my feet wrote all the things that were in that line of vision...

you

turned

yourback

and dig yourself

another

grave

i

will

walk away

this

time

not unheard

but ignored

like

the streams

that

used

to call

your name

on giving advice to a loved one that seems hell bent on self destruction

let me

sink

in

to

the

abyss

i wonder why bad poetry is so repugnant twists the brain in the wrong way to read it somehow

i actually can't read it its almost like looking at a large amount of fluro colour

de

constructing

beauty

rare

often shows

the

danger there

ed. reply  to

the shape

changes and

grows

hurts

as it s t r e t c h e s

me

if in

the right

direction

otherwise

i'm as comfortable

as

an easy chair

all we can do

is change

and grow

and

change

and

grow

in

the right direction

ed. reply  to

my reply  to

illusion

old

men

chasing

young

women

and

girls

that

write

about

love

and

love

and...

what

completion

are

they

seeking?

an

inroad

into

that

same

hell?

or

is

that

the

illusion

that

the

girls/young women

are

angels?

Men not any differant from those girls/young women you mention don't seem to tire of chasing illusions relating to females that I can see either.... young females of course you don't find them chasing after middle aged or older much...

I love the visuals this conjures up

not unlike my valley views here in Taz

Took me back to my childhood days rambling the english countryside picking bluebells (when it was still legal) crab apples from a derelict cottage fishing for sticklebacks in cornfield ponds to wander home when the st lights came on which was curfew time... Lol

ed. reply  to

closed minds

shut

like

slammed doors

and you

may as well

both be

on foreign shores

Coming up against someone who is not open to even considering another view and who lashes out with insult can feel a bit like you've been slapped it's bruising

not just to the slapped but the slapper... ;o) they don't see that or maybe they do hence the door slamming

galleon

to

sail

across the sky

in

a wind blown

treetop

clouds alongside

sailing companions

birds

aboard

the lofty boughs

Have always enjoyed sitting in the boughs of large trees it's a differant world and imagination seems unfettered up in the sky...

i want to

whirl

like a dervish

dance

like a breeze

                          above            

               high      

levitate                          the trees    

sing

like

rapture

swim through the stars

show the WHOLE world

this

love

of

ours

ah love.... it can elavate and put you in a pit of despair both at the same time...;o)

this was written in a state of rapture Lol

the moon

  a pearl

on

deep

velvet

blue

the moon

a pearl

on

deep

velvet

blue

sea

shore

at

sun

set

black

lace

on

pearl

sands

ed. reply  to

truth is dangerous and wild

not mundane

believers

dis

believe

dis

believers

believe

where

are

we

now

ed. reply  to

To my lover....

sea

shore

and

sky

never weary

nor you...

i really like ur  night  poem

glad u put it up alone

is how it feels to be out under it

seashore and sky never weary

or you...

if you take sex

out of the equation

areourexchangese m p t yormeaninglesschatter?

or a commingling of ideas

energy sparks

we are

of the earth

but we are also of the heavens

thinking about celibacy

i am a witch

have foreseen my death

a waking dream growing closer

no time

all that your love brought

crystallizing

here on these shores

walking

wind swept

head bowed

precognition on the seashore

i have seen the death crone

she is in the background

clutching a chair she wants to pull it up next to me

get me comfortable

with what's to come

she's good at that

will i go into her arms gracefully?

she is quite beautiful

death is not so bad.... ;o)  the getting there however

why do you love me better after

you've made me cry

i become supplicant

and your love swells

you become

sweet again

tender loving concern pours forth

i lie spent

on the floor

exhausted

is it exacted punishment?

on all women?

on she who sent you to that place of inhumanity?

that destroyer of boys, men and

ultimately women

will it ever change

Boarding school at a tender age has a lot to answer for.....

god how i loathe them

those beautiful

          dead

          insane

          female poets        you so Adore...

they touch you in places

i feel

i cannot reach

how i wish they would rise from the dead

                       

become ugly

             sane

             inane

im not sure if you want to fuck them

or become them

both

i think

About jealousy and envy both of which can consume like cancer

as is

he picks up attitudes

one by one

and tries them on like dresses

turning himself to and fro

discarding the ones he doesn't deem fit

he goes forth to face the world

she stands in the corner

silently

watching him

wishing he would come to her naked

About mercurial lover that drove me to distraction

from inside a shell

a few drops of ocean

pearled on my kitchen table

minute flecks of sand

many hued

golden

rose

and brown

what is it

this thing we do

trying to paste pieces of infinity into scrapbooks

as if we could

yet somehow...

Thinking about my compulsion to collect

shells rocks leaves driftwood lava rock from the beach....

I wanted to post you some autumn leaves

blood red

jewel like

littering my garden

enclosed in an envelope they withered darkened to dull

the love that nearly sent them glows

I have some deciduous trees and their autumn leaves are one of my favourite things so glorious precious jewels in their decay

Woke up this morning.

     Washed my face.

           Then I remember.

                    You have to keep running.

                                   To take part  in  the  human     r   a     c      e.

  by  paul hardwick

my reply

I missed the starting gun

of that i'm sure

but I'll keep on running

till I can run no more...

won't catch up

I just run behind

but that old death crone

she will surely find

me....Lol

?

poems that sound like the flow of a brook

don't occur to me.....

staccato bursts of hollow pain

my golden elm again

and again

music perhaps to those

not quite sane

?

    why is this rhyme occurring....

      sometimes pondering ditties dance thro ....

Solitude out under the stars/moon or overlooking a valley/mountain view can be pretty grounding Lol

?

poems that sound like the flow of a brook

don't occur to me.....

staccato bursts of hollow pain

my golden elm again

and again

music perhaps to those

not quite sane

?

why is this rhyme occurring....

sometimes pondering ditties dance thro ....

Moral

she had three lovers one an X

long left behind

(she thought)

he

still pursues her

in unwanted ways

with tawdry gifts

and vigilance

the second

most recently

discarded

barely acknowledges

her

altho she graced his bed

for over a year

and he cares no more

if he ever did

the last?

and most valued

makes plans for christmas

to be with her

he cares

so much

then makes plans

to be with

others

instead

forgets her birthday

(despite asking some few days before)

“ when is it is again?

so i can send you flowers

or a card ”

(neither arrived)

three lovers

are

NOT

better than

one

and more

is often

less

Running 3 lovers sorta concurrently doesn't allow cherry picking to suit...

more is not better only more of the same... ;o)

silly men chasing silly women/girls

moon

beams

drip

splashing

silver

splotches

moon

beams

drip

splashing

silver

splotches

coils of memory

rolled

up

un

furl

in the dark

treasure

dead

    seahorse

eyes

    not

   borne on

       waves

             crest

curling pearl

  shells  

      rose gold sand flecks

                                    the desk

seashore treasures on an old wooden desk

when we touch

it's like a death

all the possibilities

in the space between us

die

thinking about all the possibilities that might have been, how they can fall away in the choosing of one..

he wanted

a

lover

gets a

wife

she becomes

his

mother

he her

life...

(till the kids arrive.... ;o)