Poetry Blogs (pondering)
A twisted oak coiled round its self the perfect home for a mouse.
He climbed up a twisted branch and made his peace there, he built a nest of twine in the hollow center.
twine woven in brade, ants climbing up in parade. the army came to a hault and flead, they
feared for their lives and would rarther not be dead.
the stars a gemstone, the moon an ivory marble in a get jar.
Monday 17th August 2015 8:11 pm
I’ve reached a juncture
doesn’t matter anymore
On face may seem loser
but wiser since before
Likely never transpired
surprising didn’t emerge
Accepted all dished out
veiling own latent urge
No rue is being nursed
none there to complain
Excused are all ignorant
let my loss be their gain
Thursday 6th February 2014 1:18 pm