You never cross the bridge,

On the verge of doubt

You withdraw

Retreat from the river

Jump into dreamland

Tuck yourself into shade

Answer questions in a perfunctory manner

And look,  I, too, was tired and broken

Dedicated to existing 

Long enough to kiss the sun


I remember a man, a son of Zoroaster

So unlike the tired stranger I became.

I wish I knew from the beginning

How eyes can be a fountain of sacrifice

How clouds can sleep on your chest

Across the green bay that's deep

Clean and clear like a fantasy of childhood 

I wish I knew from the beginning

That in my heart I  have a balm for every wound

We humans inflict upon each other

I wish I knew from the beginning

That light is often dappled

Skies stippled and emotions contradictory.

We all need good friends and family they hold the key

To the secret garden in which spring is the only season

Remember, the door is not always closed

You can open it with stories

Simple but astonishingly true stories. 

Image result for zoroastrian art persian painting

◄ Northern Sky

Wild is the way ►


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Sat 31st Aug 2019 03:49

The best poems make you want to know more. Thanks for the poetic education. Stunning work John.

Devon Brock

Sat 31st Aug 2019 00:23

Ah yes, my Bella, now 10, shown as my profile pic, suffers as well.


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John Marks

Sat 31st Aug 2019 00:17

Thanks Devon. I have an old black Labrador, Charlie, he is 12 now, so his infirmity causes me some concern, but he still eats well and he really loves sleeping.

Devon Brock

Fri 30th Aug 2019 22:33


This is so wonderfully consoling. Deciphering your work is like opening a Chinese puzzle box. I mean that as a compliment. Once opened, there is always a gem inside.


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