Mental Health (Remove filter)
Bottling
He digs and drills so deep
that foundations may well crumble
Bottles himself away in lonely
lines of ribbed blue glass
upon some lop-sided shelf
The handwritten label, applied
and slid square with the rest of the world
The contents sealed in
wax from the neck down to do their time
Do not operate the machinery
Please comply with dos...
Wednesday 15th May 2013 10:23 pm
Spring Tanka
A winter bite that
mocks the spring, pincers its cocoon.
A life supported?
Cease one's internal decay,
Even ice melts. Love's fluidity.
Thursday 11th April 2013 6:14 pm
Recent Comments
Rick Varden on Money
4 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Nobody Loved Me Like You
6 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Je t’adore.
6 hours ago
Tim Higbee on It Matters Not
9 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Weekly WalkaboutsVerse, E.G., Poem 140 of 230: HOUSING
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Money
12 hours ago
David Franks on Weekly WalkaboutsVerse, E.G., Poem 140 of 230: HOUSING
13 hours ago
Manish Singh Rajput on It Matters Not
13 hours ago
Clare on Je t’adore.
1 day ago
John Coopey on AUTUMN TREES
1 day ago