These Wooden Boots
All I think of when I see these boots
is a hand full of dimes
squeaking at me through the leather
and broken soles that seem to grind
my feet to the ground
All I see is a row of wooden picture frames
and I count them, subtract them, divide them
into the hours that mark my sanity. Because I
am aware of time and can add, subtract, multiply
and divide it I breathe thro...
Tuesday 3rd January 2017 6:44 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on All Change
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The lonely sailor boy
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Poem
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [No.10]
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Beyond All Reasonable Doubt [Bring Back Hanging]
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Haiku for 2025 [No. 9. Testicles]
1 hour ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I swear to tell the … the Whole … and Nothing but the … ! [or The Client Hack’s Tale]
1 hour ago
Auracle on You and I
1 hour ago
Graham Sherwood on You and I
3 hours ago
John Coopey on DO YOU WANT TO KNOW A SECRET?
3 hours ago