Poetry Blogs (self-reflection)
Nicola Beckett on The Man On The Bridge (2 hours ago)
Forgive the autumn night,
Forgive the autumn day,
And oh dear god,
As the leaves spread amongst the dry traveled ground,
There remains but little to be stepped upon beyond the rotted branches of yesterday.
And I do say again,
This feeling comes to me in a dream,
It spruces my mind,
Comforts my soul.
For as the autumn wind,
Monday 5th June 2017 5:48 pm
You only really win, having lost.
On the front lawn, all is identical until you notice it.
Every other blade you see its 50 shades greener than your own.
Those shades depend on light. Those blades gleam off light refracted.
Who has the light?
Every day you look, you stare, you glare
with a drink, with a book, with a chair, with a care.
Your care, carelessly, mi...
Sunday 4th January 2015 10:42 pm