Is not a thought a miniscule point of energy with which we collide with billions in our life sending as many or more ourselves. To imagine a thought like a particle floating in the air. It is thick with them but we cannot see them with our eyes. We move through them like moving through… Read More Think it Forward – Prose
People flow through our lives for various amounts of time and countless reasons. They breathe life into you, give you something you need. A little advice. A shoulder to weep on. A moment of contemplation. Some much needed sunshine. How many strangers less friend more acquaintance have you known who have touched your life? Soft… Read More A Touch to Remember
Flesh and bone Our spark is strong But strength in one breath, Can be replaced by death. Life needs to be earned. Fragile the stone. As a feather blown When the hammer of war Rocks us to center and core. Will we never learn? Humanity is drowned When survival is crowned. Life – a struggle… Read More Survival Crowned
The way is long under the heat of the sun. The camel and rider travel as one. The roast of the sand beneath its feet, Dribbles through the hourglass until time to meet. The moment of deletion, life’s glory gone. Booze, cigarettes, cancer, none of them won. Time is the boss in our house of straw.… Read More Luck of the Draw
The Bowman It was his excellence and ability, Which drew her into his ranks. The tension both light and firm His touch erotic, in its strength. Tender and gentle in its pull, Wanting in its release. Her tension grew steadily with The drawing of his beast For her, the time had finally come. The silence as… Read More The Bowman
Stream of consciousness writing is nothing more than clearing a space setting a timer and writing – without stopping, without punctuation and often without much sense or subject matter. The following stream I have broken up into a prose but if put all together it would look like a long, continuous single sentence paragraph. The… Read More 3min Stream of Consciousness
Old pens and inky sprays. Weathered tips dance bout the days. Mental spews and fractal thoughts, Tie up the ends with spidery knots. Words emerge, a noun, a phrase, Sentences flow like grasshoppers graze. Paragraphs roll over mountainous cascades. So this is the way stories are laid.
I do not write much poetry these days but these I am sharing here are from my portfolio from years gone by. … Read More Poetry and Prose