I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
If everyone cheats All of the time, everywhere Will honor vanish?
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
You will know you have Slept soundly when you resent Being awakened
So many spines ache for your warm caress That of a slim, yellow novel has won For the nonce, but I suspect your largesse
I do not understand most local tales But the gossip and rumor I can get Imply that, beneath his many, bright veils About death, Utnapishtim does not fret
Camera people In the stories of our own Laughably brief lives
Perhaps, we are just The parent we liked the best Played rather poorly
Do what you would do If everyone found out and You were glad they did
Do not mistake your Internet access for a Way to know it all
No one understands running as you do It is not merely a task you complete Nor a hard role rehearsed and played on cue
“What a strange thing!/ To be alive beneath cherry blossoms.” ― Kobayashi Issa, Poems So many, simple pleasures are destroyed
“Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what's left and live it properly. What doesn't transmit light creates its own darkness.” ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
You’re grading, and I mustn’t interrupt I understand what you are going through: Waiting for a new idea to erupt From that turgid pool, that dark, bitter stew
