I’ve never been to Kansas Or been swept up in a wind. I’ve never seen Loch Murington Or had my collar pinned. But neither place is near to me And neither method known For taking my heart dear to me Or riding a cyclone.

Borrowed Line: “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide.” Albert Camus The Myth of Sisyphus Is life worth living? One serious question that demands attention before any others can follow. The boulder, the weight you bear, penance in the mundane….

Isn’t it strange what life can bring? Here today, tomorrow has gone away. What would be a purpose? Of those young breaths, thrive in a moment, and suddenly cut short What a shame could be, As a mask of life unveiled Zoom.. larger and more…

With you, My Friend, by my side She thought and kept everything aside With you, My Friend, the bond so tight She thought and she could fight With you, My Friend, and all the mess She thought and she felt blessed but, The one she…

For too long, they’ve accepted the bitter fruit. You’ve subjugated them to an unequal seat, And for years, they’ve been waiting patiently, Hidden in the back room. They’ve taken the scraps you’ve thrown out, Yet they’ve created something of their own. They’re a proud, vigilant,…

I climbed the heart of the world Every rocky step, clinging to its worn surface, Above the red desert, the mountains and into the tower, where the soul is, I become real here, a god, watching over the action below. My thoughts raining down, calling…

After that call in which I chorused ‘Mother, live’ The neighbour I despised loves to go with the wind: what comes from your mouth must drop in her ears before anyone knows what it was. I say I despise her. But on that night, she…

Beth A. Fleisher Hour 11   Prompt 11:  Write a poem about or set in a place you have never been to. It could be a real concrete location, or something more metaphorical, imaginary or fictional – somewhere over the rainbow comes to mind.  …

IN THE PAST. In the old days Mats were weaved with care And the land Never was bare With clans living as one without scars In the old days Conflicts were very scarce There was peace and love Even to homes on hills above In…

The needle on the record player glides across the 45 as my eyes close to focus on the music. My mind continues to race with anxiety as it seeks inspiration from the calm tones of Cat Stevens. While Moonshadow plays I can’t focus. It is…