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Posted by: Maria Disley on 10/20/2012 - 6:28 AM

An echo of Viet Tran's poem...Random Thoughts of Man and His Mindset

The Tree Fell.

The tree fell
But I, nor anyone else, was in the forest,
I did not hear it,
There was therefore, no sound from the toppling tree.
The hurtling tree did not exist in my mind and therefore did not exist at all.
The ground that may have shook,
Could not have shook for I did not hear it or feel its shudder.
The tree did not fall nor utter a plundering call.
Unlike that tree in that forest, my hurt and joy, my sadness and happiness
Exist in my mind.
I make the landscape, and so do you.
I make it green, you make it blue, the bat makes it orange,
I see the sky, you see the sea, the eagle sees the grayscale mouse, beneath the leaf
Of no concern to me.
Be glad that we manage to see beautiful,
That we feel,
And sometimes cry,
For then we know we are alive!
Before we die.

Maria Disley 20/10/12

Photography Prints


Oldest Reply

Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 10/22/2012 - 4:54 PM

My latest video and poem, followed by a translation!!! - Viajeros de la Luz (Light travellers)

Light travellers

Images for a reminder
Born from the open silence
Where the soul resides,
Silent emotions,
That in their stillness, speak,
Of you, of me,
Of our time.
Pretenders of your gaze,
So that on them you slide your pupil,
Offerings of the moment,
So that with them, you feel their emptiness…
Your emptiness.
They return intertwined,
Transparent in their succession
Places, instants, reflections of colors,
Every spectrum, an universe of illusions,
Tumult of hopes,
Dreams and pretensions…
Colors of the sea,
Errant vagabonds…
Passengers of its currents
Hunters of glances,
Place of their existence.
Flashes in the air,
In the course of its wind,
Fishermen of memories
Seeking to find, themselves,
To remember, themselves,
To awake, themselves.


Posted by: Maria Disley on 10/23/2012 - 5:37 AM

I want to spend time with this poem to really absorb it. Thanks for posting. :)


Posted by: Maria Disley on 10/26/2012 - 6:01 PM

I cannot stop reading these lines...........:)) So beautiful....

Pretenders of your gaze,
So that on them you slide your pupil,


Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 10/26/2012 - 7:42 PM

Thank you very much Maria!!! You are too kind!!!


Posted by: Maria Disley on 10/26/2012 - 10:22 PM

It is not about is more about communication....i think! :) and about words of course.....and their power to affect the senses. it just so happens that you do it so it is natural to acknowledge this.


Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 12/12/2012 - 8:58 PM

The Light Travellers Return!!! This time with text in English and "The Winter Series"!!!


Posted by: Philip Sweeck on 12/13/2012 - 1:12 AM

Beautiful words.

I love this part from T.S. Eliot's 'Choruses from The Rock' :

The soul of Man must quicken to creation.

Out of the meaningless practical shapes of all that is living or
Joined with the artist’s eye, new life, new form, new colour.
Out of the sea of sound the life of music,
Out of the slimy mud of words, out of the sleet and hail of verbal
Approximate thoughts and feelings, words that have taken the
place of thoughts and feelings,
There spring the perfect order of speech, and the beauty of incantation

Photography Prints


Posted by: Vivian ANDERSON on 12/13/2012 - 2:10 AM

Oh, this is my most favourite ever ever thread.........I literally (no pun) swoon when reading,viewing the quotes, the poems, the allegory, ALL. thank you for contributing here....


Posted by: Maria Disley on 12/13/2012 - 5:28 AM

Thank you Vivian, you made me smile when I was feeling very unsure of myself due to having an interview tomorrow for my own job! 5 candidates and only three jobs! In competition with our colleauges. And if by chance there is a box I didn't quite tick then I may be unemployed! but i want to thank Philip for posting Eliot's words because after reading them I suddenly felt all the weight lift from me and put everything into perspective....put who I am into perspective. :))) Have to go now and prepare...something I am not good at...selling myself!!


Posted by: Vivian ANDERSON on 12/13/2012 - 5:48 AM

Wishing you success, dear Maria.....what a tenuous thing it is for you to re-qualify for your own job. Now, don't be know the work requirements backwards and are sure to impress....say little rather than too much, and rely on your expertise and experience over the others.,If you can bear posting here, let us know the good news.....good luck, and "Stand Sure", the Anderson clan motto.


Posted by: Maria Disley on 12/13/2012 - 6:51 AM

Thanks Viv...I'll try! If I don't get it then maybe I will just have to become a proper artist :))))) Create and discuss art all day and night..sounds wonderful!.


Posted by: Vivian ANDERSON on 12/13/2012 - 8:19 AM

Go for it, Maria.....says I at the stroke of midnight here....on FAA,talking Art,naturally ! True artist,lol.


Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 12/13/2012 - 8:56 AM

@Philip, Beautiful words from T.S. Elliot!!! Thank you for sharing!!!

@Vivian, let's hope it gets Maria sharing again some of her beautiful poetry!!!

@Maria, I wish you lots of success wherever that may be!!!


Posted by: Kevin Callahan on 12/13/2012 - 10:12 AM

This Morning

A V of wild geese soared in low
over our woods this morning

Aiming for the Missouri River flats to feed
materializing as a solitary apparition

Gray phantoms, the specters emerged
ghost-like from a nickel colored sky

The V dissipated as quickly as it appeared
a journey that made me very happy
This morning


Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 12/13/2012 - 10:28 AM

Great to read you again Kevin!!!

I think any "serious" and "not so serious" poetry thread should include at least an honourable mention to the "On the Wings O'Butterflies Poets Society", for those who don't know, a non-profit project led by Artist and Poet Viet Tran, An "Art and Poetry for Art and Poetry's sake" Project!!!


Posted by: Maria Disley on 12/14/2012 - 6:12 PM

Thanks Guys!
kevin love those fleeting moments that seem to sum up everything that feel true and natural yet are gone in a flash and when you never have a camera at hand and if you do the picture made cannot contain the moment! I remember seeing a similiar sight a few months ago, only think they were swallows, and I admired the intelligent way that they flew without any baggage, ha ha, no handbags filled with lipstick, moisturisers, wet wipes, perfume, hankies, the list goes on, inc phone, mp3 player, address book, money, haha, and they were as naked as the day they were born, and then I was reminded what true freedom must be like.


Posted by: Maria Disley on 12/14/2012 - 6:20 PM

Oxo, a poem I began, unfinished though it is I am posting. The interview is over but won't hear anything until Monday or Tuesday. In my resume, I made reference to the collaboration of our poetry book, as one of my english teacher colleagues commented that he was thinking of introducing the idea of making a book on blurb for his yr 8 students, after reading the poetry which he really liked. This was good evidence of my extending social media skills!!!!:)
Really appreciate yours and Vivian's support and confidence in me....means a lot to have such generous friends.


Now I know that when i stir the brush in the pot
I’m rousing, tempting a life i havn’t even imagined yet
I might not get the colours right
How will i know?
I have to trust
That the way my hand moves the brush
Is the right way.

Maria Disley


Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 12/15/2012 - 5:39 PM

That is a a very nice poem Maria, thank you, Yes, speaks for me too :-)

"and I admired the intelligent way that they flew without any baggage, ha ha, no handbags filled with lipstick, moisturisers, wet wipes, perfume, hankies, the list goes on, inc phone, mp3 player, address book, money, haha, and they were as naked as the day they were born, and then I was reminded what true freedom must be like" -Yes, Freedom can be too scary for many, but not for them :-)

This is the only poetry I can come out with today:

And the radio plays Happy Christmas songs…
And life seems to just go on…
Issues, issues, issues…
Gotta go, gotta do, gotta get, gotta, gotta…
And the radio plays Happy Christmas songs...


Posted by: Vivian ANDERSON on 12/15/2012 - 7:22 PM

good poetry........I wish I could write poetry..............good luck next week, Maria, xo


Posted by: Jason Christopher on 12/16/2012 - 6:37 AM

Maria good luck with the job reinterviewing, it's a tough world these days. I'm sure you will find your voice and colours!!

Mind u every cloud has a silver lining shoud the worse happen you may find a new voice, maybe expletives for a few days lol and well I think most things are in constant flux and evolution these days....

On a more emotional note, the tragedy of the last few days has been immense. I struggle to find the words, but dedicate this poem to those in pain and seeking answers.

Time of pain

Times begotten 
Times forgotten
Times of joy
But now of today
A time of pain.
In time we feel the pain
The disdain
The hurt and the joy.
In time we feel
The birth, the loss, the healing that also comes
from time

The bullets may fly
To fracture life and bring
The deepest grief
As children die
The questions run so pained and deep
So pained. The questions cry.
Just why?

A time to pray
To ask the questions of our souls
Of souls who lose the light
As darkness cloaks
The minds of those who lose 
The light of truth
The joy of love

So deeply sad
The loss of  youth 
The slaughtered lay
The innocents 
We ask their guidance
For all our souls
On this saddened day.

Jason Christopher, 2012


Posted by: Maria Disley on 12/18/2012 - 1:25 AM

Losing the joy of love................
yes I can't help but think that that is what drives people to such violence and blindness.
I feel that you are looking for answers from the gunman....trying to understand....which for me is the most important thing to do, the only thing that can make a difference in the future.
Can you post that poem in a more prominent place where it would be even more relevant than here?

Less important....I got my job....but sadly my longtime colleague didn't. But I am thinking, there's still good reason for a new voice ...always a good reason for a new voice...thanks for confirming that for me. :)) Hope to post more poetry as holidays get closer.


Posted by: Vivian ANDERSON on 12/18/2012 - 4:46 AM

Fantastic, Maria.......enjoy your future doing a fine job, and condolences to your former colleague........I'd like to say, 'shit happens', but that's not ladylike, is it !!!!!!!


Posted by: Maria Disley on 12/18/2012 - 7:47 AM

haha...but its true! Thanks for your support right at the pertinent moment. :)


Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 12/18/2012 - 11:05 AM

Congratulations María!!!

@Jason, Great Poem and Prayer!!!

Here's my contribution for today, from "Butterfly Dreams"


Cannot recall…
First opened his eyes…
Or awoke?
All so different!!!
Maybe always was…
Had surrendered.
Every moment, then…
Unique, eternal…
Accepted the dream,
Until then lived.
Embraced the unknown.
Existence, Present…
Saw the thinking minds,
Dramas of intentions…
Passing by.
Own stories of pain and sorrow…
Driving fears and dreams…
Moving along…
From nowhere to no place.
Innocent smiles…
That simply….knew…
Nothing of no one,
And everything of all.
They dreamt…
Lost in fears…
The common dream.
Running from side to side…
Up and down, down and up!
Wondering when would they arrive…
Not knowing they had already done!
Tomorrow, they would say…
Tomorrow we will get there!
Perhaps, Not today…
But Tomorrow…Tomorrow, Yes!!


Posted by: Xoanxo Cespon on 12/19/2012 - 7:12 PM


by: Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to the wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the caged bird, "I should not know where to sit perched in the sky."

The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands."
The cage bird sings, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands."

There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."

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Posted by: Karen Newell on 03/22/2013 - 9:10 PM

I Am a Seeker


Shards of
Fall Away

I Seek Thee
Infinite Spark
of Creation

Burn my Mind
Eternal Flame
of Divine Bliss

Illuminate my Heart
with Most Pure

Jai Guru Deva


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/23/2013 - 1:38 AM

Love all the poetry above...Thankyou.


Posted by: Ed Meredith on 03/23/2013 - 1:56 AM

The Gift

the path is not decorated
with promises to share
for here nor there
calculate not and it's gift
comes without payment
and you alone
will know its value
for the gift
is you

Ed Meredith
March 23, 2013


Posted by: David Dunham on 03/23/2013 - 2:28 AM

Glad I found this thread. Mind if I share? I write a lot of poetry (well,not lately, see my new discussion) but I have no where to share it. I'll share this one I wrote most recently. Kind of fun and one of my fav's:

"What wouldst thou give", the bard did quip,
"To savor yonder lady's lips?
Wouldst thou give all, 'til thou hadst none,
To join with hers, thine lips, as one?"

"Wouldst thou pay much", he asked again,
"To know that she forsook all men
To thou to always loyal be
And share her kiss eternally?"

"Willing to die?", he did press on,
"To hear just once her lovers song,
Breathed out by sigh upon thine lips?
Soft verses from her mouth do slip."

"Mine kingdom then!" Oh laugh, thou bard.
"To answer thee 'tis not so hard.
I wouldst give all I've in mine hand.
I wouldst forsake then, all mine land.
Mine gold in yonder castle's keep;
Mine treasures stored on high or deep.

They matter not to me a whit
If I shouldst live without that kiss
From her to whom mine heart doth pull.
Those lips so fragrant, soft and full
Are worth more than I'll ever miss.
I wouldst give all for one sweet kiss."

David E. Dunham, 2010


Posted by: Karen Newell on 03/23/2013 - 9:28 AM

David, Welcome to the thread. Plenty of sharing around here! :)
Maria, I didn't know you were such a Forest Fairy. Yea!

Beginnings of a poem: Mark Wickham

The Wizard Poet's Orb.

The poet is a magician
Brandishing a beaming orb.
Taking tarnished thoughts from attrition to fruition
Adding sunlight for the orb to absorb.

The Orb
Absorbs the Sunlight.
Tarnished Thought
An ordinary Idea
into a Poem.

A Poem
filled with Magic.
A Gift to the
Mortal world.
May they
glean some Wisdom
from this
Sacred Golden

(Feel Free to Finish)


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/23/2013 - 10:18 AM

'I’ve come looking for a Drum
And to invent New Words'

from Transient Goes.

Jack, unsure if you are slating a politician...or a poet!!!!!

I believe anyone can invent a new word. is there a Minister for words?
My newest word as you may have seen is 'variere' a derivative of fitted just right into my poem...even sounds french.
I feel that you jack are talking about an imposter....


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/23/2013 - 10:47 AM

I met with one of our cousins today
He was so pissed off!
or so it seemed
as he lounged in his rocker
his large hands cradling his head,
His orange hair...a shocker!
Wish i was dead..
I imagined he said.
For who could bear
those tapping fingers
all day long
at your window
those incessant ahh's and ooh's
and variere of faces!
pointing fingers!
he is so pissed off!
he knows I know...
his eyes show it...
mine meet his
and I can't look away
his gaze..
is amazing...
I am so moved..
by his entrapment..
I want to whisk him away
to a juicy jungle
to know not metal
just wood and leaf and vine and the music of nature...
I am filled with tears..
and he continues to stare
'So, what are you gonna do about it?
he appears to yell in his mute way...
his hands thrown up onto the shock of orange hair
in despair...
he knows there's something unfair in all of this
Standing there...
we all know..
except maybe the children
who seem quite awe..stare and say look he's smiling!
If that's a smile...i think...
then he's been laughing at me all the while...
and i don't even know his name....
I don't even know our cousin's name
I turn and walk away...ashamed!

Photography Prints


Posted by: Karen Newell on 03/23/2013 - 12:52 PM

Maria, the zoo has always been depressing for me. Your piece is haunting.

Soul Beats

Shamanic Drums
Ritual Rhythm

Words will not
Mystic Messages

Throbbing Souls
Cosmic Constellations
into Being

Star Dust Dreams
Across the Universe


Posted by: Jack Kemp on 03/23/2013 - 4:50 PM

I’ve been stalling Gods memory
Concepts in Reality
Forceps of laughter
Bucolic graze set
Jud was just President
It’s hard to Live in Hartford
Like the Raspberry
It’s a serious alcohol
That dogs guard in the Night
A pets pertaining wisdom
Calculating sight
let that poor guy go
Dreams I escape
A summers Eve
A comedy scene
It seems essential
Communist Dreams
Darling Don’t you Dare us
I don’t like his wedding Dress
I Love it


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/23/2013 - 8:05 PM

Well, I don't quite understand it....but i love's like an explosion! Forceps of laughter! I could roll in these words like a child down a hill...wonderful! It's all wonderful....without understanding on my behalf....I think you owe us some insight...but you would recoil from...'you owe us' wouldn't you!


Posted by: Mark Wickham on 03/23/2013 - 11:25 PM

Sell Art Online

Down Murder Creek -
(Still waters run deep).

Down in the bosom,
Deep in the heart
Of Gasper, Georgia,
Off this earth souls depart.

Deep in the heart o' Dixie
To Putnam County seek;
It is there lies a deep, dark water
That they call Murder Creek.

Mudder, dear Mudder, don't murder me!
Pappy, please Pappy, don't pull a pistol on me!

It is there, so I'm told,
Where those foolish and bold
Meet an untimely end,
And are ne'er seen again.

For there lie deep, dark mysteries,
Beneath water that's icy cold.
To drink a draught makes your brain freeze,
And makes your blood run cold.

Mudder, dear Mudder, don't murder me!
Pappy, please Pappy, don't pull a pistol on me!

They say it's in the water,
That makes you wish do ill
Just one sip is all it takes,
To make you want to kill.

Summers, kids go down to the ford,
To laugh, and chill, and play
To wash that good ol' pickup Ford
And they're not seen from that day.

Mudder, dear Mudder, don't murder me!
Pappy, please Pappy, don't pull a pistol on me!

You've heard the stories, the old folk's tales,
To which you say "Fiddle Faddle".
But if good judgement doesn't prevail,
You're up a creek without a paddle.

So off you go in search of some fun
As so many have done before;
Down to the creek to see what's in store -
AH, FIDDLES........ no where to run.

Mudder, dear Mudder, don't murder me!
Pappy, please Pappy, don't pull a pistol on me!

Deep in the heart o' Dixie
Lie secrets buried deep;
Drowned in a River of Sorrows

That's why it's called Murder Creek.

by Mark Wickham


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/23/2013 - 11:55 PM

very creative. Any truth in it...I mean is it a real place? A tale of nightmares. I almost found myself singing it. Love the layers and colour in the image. But, would many want to buy a image of murder....I suppose someone out there would...maybe for the attached dark mystery. Its good that you are producing art and poetry.....:)


Posted by: Mark Wickham on 03/24/2013 - 12:33 AM

Yes Maria, there is a Murder Creek in Putnam County Georgia. I noticed it for the first time today, and thought it would make a provocative subject to write about. Of course, as far as I know, the story is purely fictional (i.e. made up). I am glad you found yourself almost singing a melody. It was written to be song lyrics. A lot of people buy images of murder. I am thinking how popular the image of Christ's Crucifixion is. But I don't really expect the image to sell. I just included it to illustrate the poem. I'm considering combining the poem and image as a poster. Then maybe it will sell as well as my other non-sellers.


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/24/2013 - 1:22 AM

Would you also think about having two titles for the image....the one you have and another....because its a great image. the cruxifiction is percieved as a different kind of murder...and idolatary...and so that you mention it....more acceptable.


Posted by: Mark Wickham on 03/24/2013 - 8:25 AM

Maria, Maybe I could call it Still Waters, as a double entendre. The kids could have stumbled upon a moonshine still so as to warrant their being shot. Moonshine stills were often situated near creek branches to incorporate the branch water in the shine. And still locations were very secretly guarded places.
Just a thought.


Posted by: Jack Kemp on 03/24/2013 - 10:17 AM

That was part of a prophetic piece I wrote back in 99 prior to 9/11.. One of the reasons Bush was so anxious to declare war was so the Hartford insurance company would not have to pay on the damages to the twin towers if it was considered an act of war... I only learned of this last year when I read Gore Vidal, perpetual war for perpetual peace...


Posted by: Ronda Broatch on 03/24/2013 - 10:54 AM

Very cool thread.

Here's one of mine (an older poem) that came out recently in The Flyfish Journal:


I am the fish
In the bear's mouth

silver chinook wriggling

my broken body a sacred house
for his blameless tongue

There is beauty in the draping curve of death

He will follow the driven river
and I inside him

--Ronda Broatch

From The. Flyfish Journal, vol.4 issue 2 2012


Posted by: Puzzles Shum on 03/24/2013 - 12:00 PM

We live to die and we die to live / one more day of living is other day of understanding


Posted by: Karen Newell on 03/24/2013 - 12:08 PM

Slipping into Myself

Silent ripples grow
snow frosting cedars
a wicked wind blows

Sitting by the fire
gazing in to flames
spring storm desire

the name of the


Posted by: Jack Kemp on 03/24/2013 - 3:00 PM

No one seems to give a shit
The delusion was when you thought they did
Not even the Nourishing Youths
The Crowds not hip so what’s the use
The fan grows through the fire
who keeps saying
“I’m depressed”?
I’m afraid we can’t arrest
Well couldn’t we just hold him for questioning?
What it is is what it’s not
Tell me more
How is your pharmaceutical Salesmanship?
We all just cry for Tuesday
I feel sorry for you
I bring my own little Key
inch and chrome inch
by a fire sign
apocalyptic dirt
I was just late
Just late
So don’t Just sue the Hell out of me
Look Listen
your not just falling asleep on us
Her Alterness won’t stand for it
Oh my God
We all have scurvy


Posted by: Puzzles Shum on 03/24/2013 - 3:22 PM

What is loved to love someone or to leave some one for the right reasons? Can we shred tears of joy rather hate one another . Please tell me as I look into your eyes as our lips kiss, till me what is meaning of love. Can LOVE have hate or is it the thrust from our hearts. So let’s end this with love knowing love will take time like how clocks click by the mints.


Posted by: Karen Newell on 03/24/2013 - 4:10 PM

Has attached me
To this body
With an iron grip.

Fifty plus years
It has served me well
My home here
On Earth.

Some times I
Leave It
Riding my Imagination
On other worldly quests.

One day
It will not be
Who am I


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/24/2013 - 6:08 PM

I don't have a soul
I have a body,
I am a soul

This I read somewhere recently....:)


Posted by: Karen Newell on 03/24/2013 - 6:45 PM

Maria, I like that! :))


Posted by: Mark Wickham on 03/25/2013 - 1:39 AM

Photography Prints

Recipe for Gumbo by Mark Wickham

Get out your black iron skillet,
Add White Lilly flour and brown
Stir it up, til just a'fore smokin',
To make a darkie roux.

Next, add a little water,
Top off with a dash o' Cajun
Add a little splash o' Injun,
And now ya got a stew.

Take a handful o' mixed greens
And throw 'em in the pot
Add some catfish filet;
Add the other white meat;
Then taste; see what ya' got.

Needs somethin'; ..Les' see..

Black pepper;
Red pepper;
Some white pepper too!
Now it's seasoned to taste;
YAH!, We like it HOT!

Now, getcha self down
To the bad side o' town;
Across the railroad track,
Now don't turn around
Until you done found
That lil' ol' juke joint shack.

Turn the heat up
To simmerin hot
Add bootie and booze
Say, whatcha got'ta lose?

And when it's all mixed,
Flavors blended jus' right..
Then whatcha GOT?
Served pippin' HOT!


YOW'dee....LAWD'ee... it's slap yo' mama.. GOOD!


Posted by: Dawn Eareckson on 03/25/2013 - 2:44 AM

Photography Prints

I met this gurl.
What woman ratha'.
By life I'ma swar now
Total Package
'n I mean she knew how to give herself ova' to her Lord
lawd - she smelted for her master.

This gurl.
She would work me over.
She was so fierce my god my brother-
the words kept comin' out her lungs rang harmonies
coalesced 'longside fantasies
rose up announcin' cavernous brevities,
liberties hitherto unknown
forthwith unhoped for ~ o my soul.

She took me
in her various omissions

Yes I found this embodiment
whom I loved so much
so touched my wretched heart, all partitions,
resigned itself in one luridly nauseating lurch
to her alone.
I latch her home.
I'm sweet on her abiding love her willing flesh her paveable features her

eroding sense of sin.

I say, she took me in.

~ Dawn Eareckson


Posted by: Maria Disley on 03/25/2013 - 3:39 AM

This thread is much too long now. Would someone like to begin Poetry thread 2?


This discussion is closed.