It's not the pen
It is the ink
But it is the dishes
and not the sink
and it's never in your eye
but in your wink
it's just frozen in the ice
not spinning in the rink.
It's your body
and not your clothes
it's the stuff
that rarely shows
It's just the stuff
that wind just blows
the stuff
that rarely shows
It's the stuff that the wind blows-away,
and the stuff you never seem to say.
Tickle your toes. . .
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Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
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This is just a short note from me to inform you that after my extensive monthly study and subsequent written exploration of Psalms and Prove...
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July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
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Rain, dearest friend. You know just when to pound on my head. I know there is more to this world, than what I have given from inside myself....
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You are not the first to ache and turn green, ill from the motion sicknesses and poisoned canteen-- As you hike up the hill of "What if...
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Tangible branches bow to meet me Oh, how they bend to my will They don't snap; brittle and stale When pressed for comfort They never fee...
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two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked... -
RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
did someone die, today? most likely. isn't that a difficult thing? was someone born, today? most likely. isn't that a difficult thin...
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I am unique. "Fellow" Christians: I am a Christian but I DON'T buy into your right wing bullshit. Think. Then Speak. My"a...
Poets United Contributor
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