Hills will tell you that you hate running, but hills lie.

Du rusler gjennom skogen,. Med sol på hendene dine. Som varmen av blyge kjærtegn. Da trår du på en kongle på stien,. Kjenner det mjuke trykket av den. Gjennom sålen på skoen din. En liten hendelse, så liten at den nesten er ingenting. For det hender deg på jorden dette.

Not only a cultic half-breed but a downright outcast, as well. Or, a despised enemy, even. How compelling it truly is to behold Jesu.

Waiting for the right time. Waiting for a ride in the dark.

Posted by dbarber59 under age. It swallows time whole with great gulps and never looks around. And thus my life has been. Anyone else at this point? September 5, 2011. Posted by dbarber59 under Poetry. Posted by dbarber59 under Poetry. Like knights of old? .

Readers make the best companions. To areas rarely seen,. The top ledge of the bookshelf. In their searchlight nudges,. To get out a duster and flick. And I notice its fine silken thread. Right to the open book.

A Narcissist Writes Letters, To Himself. A Hopefully Formerly Depressed Human Vows To Practice Self-Approval. This glass at half capacity. Everyday life looks tragic and dull. Like watching a mime with no arms. Yet with a bit of healthy detachment. It can be beautiful, rich and quite often hilarious,. Like watching a mime with no arms. Where all the dancers,.

We met at a bar. We met at a bar. When she saw me, she looked away, and I looked away when I saw her. When could we see each other again? If she had as.

You are my prince charming. My knight in shining armor. My best friend and my angel. My noble sphinx and pharaoh. You gave up your great throne. To live these years right by my side. Apple Eyes, you soothes my sighs and gave me love. I promised I would protect you. I promised, and I lied. I swear I though that it was best. I wish that I could say I tried.