Heaven rains down as it falls apart
I run outside to catch pieces of it in my hands
Surrounded by it I can only marvel
at what I find and hold
I look and see everyone standing outside
with outstretched hands
waiting for a touch of grace
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
-
▼
2018
(251)
-
▼
March
(42)
- I won't cry when you go because I'll have gone fir...
- Listen and Go
- Learning to see
- only time
- The Wolf Waiting by the Door
- Wild and Free
- Listening
- Make A Choice (freewrite 3/27/18)
- What is living is what is dying is what will be re...
- Toogether with Myself
- Night and Morning 3/23/18 - 3/24/18
- The Wolf
- Starlight
- morning 3/22/18
- Morning 3/21/18
- A Beautiful Neighborhood
- Morning 3/20/18
- Places in Memory
- Morning 3/19/18
- Morning 3/18/18
- The Wolf & the Rose
- Drinking Martinis in Paris
- Pensando en Espanol
- Fallen Rain
- Advice for a Better Life
- Eternal Life
- Who asks / Who listens
- seams
- Poem
- For Lovers
- Morning 3/9/18
- Morning 3/8/18
- Life recedes into Memory Memory recedes into Time
- Habits of
- The Clock
- Rosefall
- The Five Remembrances of Buddhism
- Knowledge
- "You promised me a piece of the sky when all I wan...
- pulling daylight together
- Rain Down
- Sleeping Gods
-
▼
March
(42)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
No comments:
Post a Comment