I stare this hour silenced pillowed breaths muffled then, gasps of horror, a murder a dream
Category: Marathon Poem
Quickly!
Let us drink to these final hours! Let us empty our pens! The ink has gone into the wine, the wine has flowed like ink, let us soak the papers in the flood! This is the way the gods want to be celebrated! Let…
Poem 21
An all-nighter by myself in a house I’ve lived in for eight years. I’ve paced, tossed and turned, but never stayed up all night. The windows are open to let in the cool summer night air and the birds awaken early in anticipation of sunrise….
Hour 21: A Line in the Sand
If I were to draw you a line in the sand where would the stakes lie and where would you stand? Would you walk with your people in the light of the sun or hide until nightfall, take cover, and run? Would you blanch…
Hour 21
Thank you, Paulo Coelho In a world of corrupted humanity and desertion Where love was merely a claimed assertion Mr. Coelho you taught me, ‘Consider the likelihood of your glee And darling you’re free’ Your words remain an inspiration Sometimes scaring, sometimes an aspiration Each…
#21 – The central point
The central point Is where you’re aiming forth Because you know it’s exactly Where it all starts over again When all others have given up On their dreams and Are searching for the treasure In all the wrong places The central point holds all…
21
There must be something in the books, he wrote. In his books, there was hope. Optimism planted in a dystopia that grew in a reader’s heart and showed how it is really darkest before dawn. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine sentences the…
Accidents and Insults
“Accidents don’t happen to people who take accidents as a personal insult,”–The Godfather, Mario Puzo What would it be like to live out this line? To treat; Every mishap, Every sling; Every arrow of misfortune; As an insult deserving of redress? Would there be fewer insults?…
hour 21 poem
Memories of the seaside brought by London rain memories of Greece fixed by architecture and words of ancient Greek origin in the English language even a newspaper is an ephsmeral every story every novel every life to Graham Swift
Twenty~One…
eee eeeee cummings?? (how so?) sometimes when i look into your eyes… (how could i have thought they were blue when they are so very, very green?) …or listen to the slide of your voice… …or feel the touch of your hand on my shoulder……