Come to house of god
pray , sing hymns, make confessions
congregate, disperse
not a trace of god you'll find
nothing but humans like us.
fall
Printable View
Come to house of god
pray , sing hymns, make confessions
congregate, disperse
not a trace of god you'll find
nothing but humans like us.
fall
My friends have a new
baby girl to love, honor,
and raise in this world
of ours, which has its ups and
downs; never a dull moment!
Frolicking mongoose
on the beach wall said to his
girl friend, 'My diddle
darling ,come and play with me
let us make our lives full!
desert
Hot alkali dust
Searing the desperate throat
Begging for water
Heat waves have you turning circles:
The Natives called it “Death Walk”…
Haunted...
Oh eyes! See not thee
this ghostly apparition.
Begone - troubled soul,
foul memory of death. Peace.
Leave me to untroubled sleep.
a frosty morning.
eyes that blink away
tears that obscure the vision
must close to rewrite
the script that has now fallen
into the valley of mist
ink
Something like fear, close,
in murky water, stirs the
reeds and seaweed slow.
Reach out, white flash moves too quick;
disappears in a black cloud.
A violent crowd
I've never done this before, but I'll give it a try :)
a violent crowd
arms and elbows jostle
pouring wine down smoke-dry throats
fists clenched around stones
high on the roof a sniper
props up his noiseless missile
(I hope the le in jostle doens't count as a syllabic l? does a weak a like kind around count as a syllable? bah, I suck at counting. why do the lines with 5 syllables end up longer than those with 7()
an oasis
To be or not be
Is it fantasy, mirage?
God I need a drink
I see trees, grass, all signs
Let this be an oasis...
Heatwave
Let this be an oasis.
date trees swinging all around,
a crystal spring
a well full of sweet water
you and I away from crowd
Gosh! sometimes you get carried away!
anyway thanks for reminding, Symph!
verbiage
erm... u didnt need to continue with the last line, but with 'heatwave'.
But anyway, the new topic? :)
you have a river
of thoughts, a whitewater of
ideas that threaten
you camouflage yourself in
your honeysuckle bower
ghosts
First chill of winter
Rustling in the autumn wind
Copper-coloured leaves.
You talk of everyday things.
Why do I hear ghost stories?
windows
open panes of glass
mirroring thoughts from within
giving you away...
you cannot hide, the windows show
the deeper depths of your soul
skeleton
this brittle white frame
under fleshy folds is hid
entombed in its task
of bearing thankless organs
and shaping formless tissue
zombies!!!