foreigner
The past is a foreign country…
Author: windstrewn
Average Dude. Sometimes, I Write.
suncatcher
And wheels within wheels is each cloud rolling across her eyes as they uplift…
the first rungs
Regardless of what, in whom or how you believe, faith is conceptually necessary.
levity in brevity 2: mace in yo face
It’s a sun-kissed day by this coastal balustrade…
levity in brevity 1: two boots and a bathroom
Because two-steppin’ spins are highfalutin…
echoes of narkissos
There’s a numbness in your sadness…
cor primum
I’ve heard some say, ‘reason reigns.’
bittersweet
Inevitably, Pain and Love are banded…
winterwhile
An ache the late season achieves.
i am poetry
I am poetry.
the drive (original, with commentary)
That day, as I recall, seemed so accursedly longer than most…
a song stolen
Somber are the tones of the porch-chime…
quiet legacy
The path through fatherhood may look like a ball of knotted yarn…
sandbox souvenirs
When I was Icarus on a banana-seat Schwinn…
bizarre bazaar
Life is an esplanade…
sarcasm has a crush on the truth
They don’t look the same, taste the same or smell the same…completely, unanimously, inarguably different…
first
Love is insatiably selfish…
semi-souled sorrow
So were the halves of one homeless man…
where chains remain
He sighed, “Unwelcome, yes, but I had to come…To beg of you your private shoulder…”
missed marks
Hope has no mark missed more markedly…
south of infinity
Perhaps tomorrow. Or in my fifties. Maybe when I’m one-hundred-and-twelve…
the strength of ten men…
I have a mind to sling it, in the most physically awkward and ridiculously violent way…
uncompliant
Give in? They say don’t. And I won’t…
a sailor’s dream
…it’s okay for my heart to have a few irreconcilable differences with my mind…
quizzing glass
To decipher the whispering hieroglyphs hung…
heartache
True heartache is a restless, hissingly dangerous snake…
again and when
The Wind, Her meaning was not to grieve, nor to sorrow with me then…
WINDSTREWN 