Tuesday, August 2, 2011

and now for something completely different....

Since I have done nothing to add to this blog in the last several (many) months, I thought I better get crackin and do SOMETHING... so, a small selection of "poetry" from my distant and not so distant past.

He recalled beauty.                                                                                 
It's power and
elaborate
frantic
language.
An ache in the breast
like rust.


Raw winter sky
White void
Pounding the will
Crushing the symphony
of me


She sits, always alone.                                                                                                                                                 Andrew Wyeth
Iron tongued
and dreams of singing delicate music
of whispering her want to her beloved
in light cool moments.


Not much, but something. 

3 comments:

  1. Wow!

    BTW---who is this oldfool guy? Just askin...grin

    ReplyDelete