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Kristene Mueller - St. Francis .thebest. Its a hundred years since we've met,--it may be another hundred before we meet again" Edith Wharton ...life is more fiction than fiction itself.-Azir Nafisi
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| i think its time for me to write again. Friday. 4.4.08 11:24 pm once in a while, you can place yourself outside your eyes and watch your pupils dilate. just wondering if i am the only one wondering a thought that came upon me when only oxygen stood between us. How about when two shades of brown meets to become four? Comment! (1) | Recommend! One of many Sunday. 3.23.08 5:40 pm Comment! (0) | Recommend! Choice wed, 9.19.07 Choice by gnafinel the usual gray of day, otherwise melancholy, has sparked a say, in words of usual folly "where was once, a clear day, no longer passes as a trolley but rests peacefully as a cloud in May" For one who saw measures of gray sees now proof of what is more than two shades Comment! (0) | Recommend! | Categories: Poem [t], perspective [t] ahh poetry 25 of junebugs! i know i can without a doubt believe what i believe to be the truth. how insincerity intertwines with months of grappling the root of all that is abrupt, shallow , mundane, must be the key to overcome and triumph with lines of sweet sly smiles and soot ahh poetry releases the condemption too bitter to reclaim Comment! (5) | Recommend! wonderful! 26th of june "This is the Blessed Life--not anxious to see far in front, nor careful about the next step, not eager to choose the path, nor weighted with the heavy responsibilities of the future, but quietly following behind the Shepherd, one step at a time." Comment! (2) | Recommend! last call JUNE 16 there is no intiative to do any better for anyone else when there is none to do better for myself. there are no reparations for knowledge. life ceases to shine around the corner, when walking eventually reaches a resting point and suddenly where i am, we look vague and bleak. Its far more appeasing to sit than to go on. what every pedestrian fails to recognize is a rest a never a merely a rest. every block's a labored run. Looking forward only keeps me in stjllframe. And when the small momentos that you have grown to love betray you, the next block only grows stronger in distaste. why do i go? Comment! (2) | Recommend! |
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