stoic the stone &
cold the rain
quench at flame &
seek the space darkly
under wave nine
quell, quell
the fever for that
inside remembrance
forget the old
forget the old
burning acres
Photo by Andreas Haslinger on Unsplash only ever illusion
seclusion the only
solution to retain
a sanity amongst
all the confusion
burning acres of
this heart, if one
might be found...To like/comment:
burning acres
learning to talk
Photo by Ronin on Unsplash can we speak plain
cos i have forgotten
how to speak
and the words lost
all meaning in
the fog of dream
anyway
we needs must find
them again
we sought meaning
in rootsoil and mycelium
turned over understone
beseeched the sky
(i think you know why)
and whispered to crows
for their insight
and as for our meddle?
we still sit speechless
about all the things
under the oak tree
under the wings
come, kiss me
to spoken, my dear,
under a turquoise skyTo like/comment:
learning to talk
Half-penny thoughts — 30may25
Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash One of those ideas that keeps coming back to me is a question that has been on my mind for at least ten years. Whether it is music, writing, or art in general: Where is the disruption and subversion?
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Half-penny thoughts — 30may25
