But for the beating of heart – a discordant rhythm – I am obliterated by fog – numbness of unanticipated loss clouded by dreams misted over – I await sun’s return….
Was that really me, signed his life away fresh-faced, innocent marched North then sailed East to unknown seas? Fuelled by anticipation, anchored by camaraderie, that boy who crawled through jungle deep weathered Burma heat and nightmarish infestations, adrenaline pumping infiltrated enemy lines unarmed, feckless nursed fears with booze adopted false bravado. Was that really me, […]
Influence minimal, once hair turns white and body slows to sloth Only words – genderless and without context serve to blindside Last weapon of age. (Image from created by yours truly.)
I love the pic with the wire fence. It reminds me of peaceful rural areas, which we enjoy seeing during our weekend trips. Your poems are lovely.
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Thank you, Eugenia. This is from one of my favourite drives.
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Lovely.
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Thank you!
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the words and the wire fence brought back beautiful memories of my grandparents place…….they had a wire fence just like that around their garden. thank you! 🙂
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The wire fence evokes something in me too, but I can’t place it. Thanks Wendi.
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You are very welcome VJ….thank you for sharing.
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These are lovely! I like that last line “seasonal moodiness!” 😀
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Thank you!
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