so naturally we think of heaven.
realise it is the pattern that makes us,
the familiar and ordinary. other prophets
in agreement we lose to the music, hell as
there is a book at the university. i have
read it twice.
Chinese painting about hell: “Picture Reference of Causality – Paintings of Hell”, which was painted by Taiwan Chinese painting artist Jiang Yizi in 2003. The painting is a roll of 62 cm high and 50 meters wide…..
this dark gloomy morning
a random feeling
time creeps forward with splintered light creaking
it happens every year
almost rhymes with
being asked to explain
refer to the fallen.
i told her it was about
it feels natural, without the need
to verbalize the fallen.
lost connection. lost heart.
notes:- don’t you see that one experience, memory is mixed with another, there is no need for isolation. we cannot judge, we cannot understand everything.
having come to a halt
at the sports man.
posh for now
unlike you folk who swim and visit gardens
i wore my garbardine to be sure of keeping dry.
as many as that;
not as many as last night you know.
brainstorming with abandon
and counting symbols.
crossings out and wiring my brain is a task
for which i am not fit without a drink.
a sort of drink cannot say or i will fail.
challenge:~ 50 words. no ‘e’
history is not my subject
sounds rather current
except this guy got caught
before the damage
i have just been advised/
he had hoped to be interred at
he was not sure if it existed yet
it was decided to cut him up to kill him
put his head on a spike
up his neck/
that was bombed too
bombs are nasty things/
(prompt. guy fawkes & coventry cathedral)
bricks are selected, organised, moved into store.
into the yard.
tiles & edging
ready for a shortage.
rocks are left
for paid work.
he will come this thursday, another opinion.
i would say if questioned that neither of us
is a word.
each morning early, i feed the cat.
a sachet with jelly.
packaging straight to the dustbin, outside.
in pyjamas i step the slate, feel the air, watch the sky
swallow the bats whole.
later, when dressed, and booted, i smiles
at the bare foot print on the step.
during the day the others come foraging,
through the flap, what can I do?
first one is flimsy, timid
trespass. a shadow.
the other bruiser ; black bully.
bold, hissing wildly.
each evening, I feed the cat again.
take the package to the bin again.
one hundred words.