I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
How carefully some choose the right footwear Occasion, mood, height, weight, color and style Collapse the search parameters; they care
By D. J. Reddallabout 3 hours ago in Poets
Haunting idiots Makes encroaching death seem much More appealing, no?
By D. J. Reddallabout 15 hours ago in Poets
What kind of leader Believes everyone he wants Can be bought and sold?
By D. J. Reddalla day ago in Poets
Each time you feel small, weak, sick, insufficient Consider the subtle power of one, grey orphan Luckless lunar lump, looping languidly through silence
Hypochondriacal isolation Thanks to a rampant, mysterious plague Gradually yields to relaxation As good signs appear, though many are vague
“Kings are the slaves of history.” Leo Tolstoy, War & Peace When humble workers Humiliate proud monarchs The world seems more just
By D. J. Reddall2 days ago in Poets
You survive a plague And then discover that you Suffer from MS
By D. J. Reddall3 days ago in Poets
A gift for humans Was more than he could conjure We will not forget
Prometheus' pain Was your original cost How cheap you are now ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By D. J. Reddall4 days ago in Poets
Genre theory doesn’t get much respect But then again, what does at the moment? It might be bright to history inspect To find out what the thing’s name really meant
None of it is ours We are designed to receive Accept and transmit
By D. J. Reddall5 days ago in Poets
The breeze is soothing Visits are not intrusions Brief is their beauty