incredibleind (Remove filter)
MULES
Mules
Shoulders sore, propped up over an internally burning stomach
Raw eyes anchored to keys,
Each digital page was a blanketed field surrounded by summits.
It’s no crowned jewel, although sometimes peppered by obsidian flakes,
Numbers indicating trailheads with the promise of mountains and lakes.
Following the spine upwards, eyeing the words down
Pages were the ...
Monday 30th January 2023 2:11 am
Recent Comments
John F Keane on Fiona Larkin wins National Poetry Competition
12 minutes ago
Graham Sherwood on For Patrick Bocarde
17 minutes ago
Graham Sherwood on Reinvention.
20 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Tube Shelter
1 hour ago
Philip Stevens on These places
9 hours ago
Clare on Reinvention.
9 hours ago
Marla Joy on A Mother's Life
15 hours ago
Hélène on Favorite Poet
16 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Forget-Me-Not
17 hours ago
C Byrne on These places
18 hours ago