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Waterman, Dutch liner on which you made your passage- Father, smiling from the gangplank hand raised, waving at your friend's camera... and all this, from my memories
Dear Destiny, With words unspoken, you decide our fate From the things we love to the things we hate Who we fall in love with, and who we can't stand Our every last wish, our every last demand
I was introduced, through the limerick, To writing poetry, I knew every trick But my teachers found I would rather go in the ground Than write another limerick Then they introduced
I just wish I was a word upon a page, safely out of reach, one quickly scanned over and subtle to a degree that with it the story is magnificent, and without it the story is broken.
In. The air is fresh. Out. Eyelids rise, open to the bright challenge Brightness fades, leaving only a clearing. The challenge remains, yet the possibilities are easier to see. In.
Use to drink all the time, torn up from sky to ground, lock up two or three, times ago, you don't know, how it is to slip, I have once falled under, take pain pills at christmas,