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Today's Top Writing
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When the Mystery of Life Ends
goodnight
Emma
he spoke softly,
lit the candle,
opened his book
and started to read his
last rites
she kissed his cheek
and turned away in a
cloud of unease
in restless arrang..
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On a lazy summer afternoon I was visited by a Brown ThrasherHe was standing up on his sturdy legs as though he was a Professor...He wanted to speak of his travels in the Mid West and across the plainsso I offered him sips of hummingbird nectar as ase..
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one from the archives
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the song does remain the same
i am a
black guitar
with ebon strings
and displaced octave
strange sounds in an
urban city
lyrics sung through
stitched vocal chords
they are burning the
wood
ash incorporated,
..
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Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle shore of the mind- Henry wadsworth Longfellow
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The flowers died on Thursday.
I watched them wither, turn brown,
And slowly
mold to grey.
The petals fell overnight.
I counted them as they dropped
Silently
out of sight.
The stems rotted on Saturday.
They ..
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I am not a name,
I am not a number.
I am everything and nothing,
and some things in between.
I selfishly exist,
in your peripheral vision.
The star in my own drama,
looking out while looking in.
It's lonely in my head,
thoughts ..
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Again, an almost poem 😀
In the style of Mr John Cooper Clark.
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When a serial killer terrorizes the city, there's only one person capable of stopping them: Cole Brooks, a boy with the ability to see much more than he should.
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