rewrite it, add the dots, delete the rhyme.
erase the last draft, start again,constantly.
wrap arte facts in paper. box for transportation.
lose the plot,scrap the lot, fear the repercussions
now there is a good word, if the space bar works.
do you wish you wrote longer stuff, important tomes,
well i do,
it is all ready now, i just need your instructions,
and i know you have asked.
it is called hate speech and should be reported early.
know that this upsets, both parts, especially when you
understand the way of things, the good feelings that
do you know that all will appear ugly if you speak so,
make you feel unsettled, and unhappiness flow.
i only say this, as some may block you. think early.
it can just as easily happen to you.
did you fight in the last war, did you earn your medals there?
there is a small bird in this house, perching on the chair.
it was said that god saved them, yet
what a cost. i heard the news quite early,
it is an old radio. reeling we had tea, not
being in a place even to imagine.
most of us are speechless.then one raised
it is unimaginable.
oh i got it wrong, in truth the theory is right.
barbaric: the concept on kindness.
yet we learned about broken bones, bodies
that seep blood with water. we studied the mosaics,
good legs, good legs here.
the voices rather quiet. we have had a life time
of listening, yet not understanding really.
so let us go forth and compare alice to your god,
as we have done in the past..
yet know there is possibly nothing to fathom here.
the fence is down, it has been a while.
i can watch you. walking. watch you working.
you told me it will rain later, that my work
yet the sun stayed all day.
the repair will come sometime, it
is down to the farmer.
we all have
i am no different.
a set routine, tasks most days.
bread and butter, move a mountain.
yet it can be done slowly, only
looking at that which is completed.
not remembering the punctuation,
enjoy the air, watch the frog,
hop close by.
know that when all is done, you
may sleep well.
i do not buy the paper, often read them in
supermarkets, waiting. friends offer, knowing
i have the fire.they have extra uses, for the house,
Brenda Keough Evans gave me these gifts.
she is my friend.
i read the news online, not that there is total
truth in some of it #biased
as christ the king.
we came up the back way,
from the avenue.
she did not know of the place,
she asked her friend.
down in the lower room, we saw
the empty food bank, their cases
full of treasure.
read the names, the words in latin,
heard all the questions. wondered
at the glass in blue, honored in red.
later, she entered with her father,
processed, then got married.
outside it was raining gently.
notes:-derived from Latin, processio, from procedere, to go forth, advance, proceed
we do not all know the same things.
we all have learned different. that
takes a while to understand, to
know that the looms have stopped.
some times it needs time , fortitude
to get things back working.
with courage and wd40.
they came through dust, on
horses. appearing at seven.
he spoke through dust,
his voice as water.
i dreamed my hair was golden,
that people stayed. yet i
it seems a darker morning.