a journey for broken feet
out past the farthest fires
the words for renouncement
through blackmail and indiscipline
I had found no one to follow
but myself
as it was etched in beech
in the beginning
the sanctuary that was lost
the sun bellows through
the rainbow's fractured scythe
as my back meets the earth
I've climbed so far
If only to see how the fuselage
has ruptured across the meadow
some glimpse of promised land
punctuated in black
by the ceremony of innocence
all the lanterns salvaged
in the sharp fields of night
and so even without knowing
what has vanished from me
tell me who I am
About the Creator
Timothy James Lane
Sea Ghost
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The beauty of life
Life, at its best, is a fleeting dance of moments, each precious and unique but intertwined in the intricate tapestry of existence. It's a voyage through time, a symphony of events, emotions, and relationships that combine to form the fabric of our personal and collective stories.
By Mercy Raymond a day ago in Poets
She loves me
She loved me. When I was small and my wee stayed to the paper. When I was rumpled skin and floppy big paws and big eyes looking up and waiting for her hands to find me, scooping me up and bringing me into her. And we were happy, so happy, so very, very happy. I was so happy to see her and danced my circles so she'd know how much I wanted nothing more than for her to hold me. I'd wrap, wiggle, wiggle and wrap my growing body with my bestest happy dance, slumping and kerplumping into her warm parts just like she liked me to. She was there and I was there, and we were there together, and it was perfect. Oh, how she loved me! We spent all our time together, playing inside, outside, up, down, going round and round. And she petted me and called me good girl when I made poops, and sometimes when I weed in her front yard or the neighbor's, and I was the best girl. For her, I really was! And she scratched me behind my ears, and it was heaven. I aowooo my joy! And she aowoooed hers too.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
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