I said sorry to my dad
For the mess I've made
Of the hands that he gave me
Nails rising like driftwood
Chalking above the sands
Fingerprints smudged guilty
On the glasses of now
Fingers scrunched and tossed aside
Into despair's waste bin
Holding desperately onto nothing
Till it bleeds away into the warmth
Of cramp and strain and futility
A mess with the stamp of dead-wood
Jutting from palms that know no peace
Except the comfort of arthritis.
Friday, September 10, 2010
After a busy day when confronting admin
We must all come Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...
-
She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
-
Final Thoughts From an AGM You want to mess with me? I can take you down a notch Spill the beans I’ll spill your blood Tooth for tooth, splo...
-
Standing on a Hillside Sometimes you look back on where you have been Past the cloud-fluffy daffodils bobbing and green Through the deep dar...
No comments:
Post a Comment