About Across the Lake, Eerily. Catapulting on the springboard of today. This entry was posted on 17 May 2014, in micro poetry. Learned in woods, compliant in his words. The skill witnessed in one; the other. Missed, though blessed by the verses he wove. The final exhale came at his death. A mother long held ch.

It becomes more of a hunger. You listen Close to silence,. Hold close the sound of. Memory is a gritty irritant. Exchanging Babies in Parking Lots.

I would read you lines of lovely prose,. But, I am tired, today. I would tell an amusing anecdote,. But, I am tired, today. I would brave brigands and burglars,. But, I am tired, today. I would sing you the sweetest lullabye,. But, I am tired, today. I would read you a thousand and one tales,.

The spleen I have against St. Was a horny bastard, a fiddler and drinker. Auctioneer who was booted off. The farm when my granddad was born. David eventually came back to atone,. He burnt his fiddle in a field and sired.

Beautiful poetry with something to say. Tuesday, 6 May 2014. Of rain, black scythes. Thrilling in roll and shoal. Sharks over, too quick. Sunday, 13 April 2014. Of rain, the stubborn dust.

At the height of unencumbered. Monday melting rosemary mint poem teens dance dress. How my soul was bolted,. All you see is me weary. I would trade all,.

Lookin to catch some new words. Shade and rustling leaves sigh. The attribute my radar seeks. But time plays tricks as we both know. For every time my true love speaks.

My Simplistic view on this Complex day. 3 Actions to Adjust your Intentionality. Do You Really Have the Time? But do you really trust? Are you Committed or Interested? And the difference is significant. The Illusionist and the Hidden Word. 5 EASY STEPS TO GET UNSTUCK. My Simplistic view on this Complex day. 3 Actions to Adjust your Intentionality. Do You Really Have the Time? But do you really trust? Are you Committed or Interested? .

A lazy cloud hangs overhead, doing its best to resist the pesky breeze which persists in pushing it all over the otherwise placid sky. The longer one looks, the more it seems like a carefully choreographed dance. Leaves rustle, bees hum and birds fly around doing whatever it is that birds do. My mental strides towards greatness are interrupted by the screams of a gull. Such a racket they make! Of course, if the wild things have ma.