Got bit by the writing bug.
I hold steadfast to the Path though my body craves a wandering. If I veer in this direction I may find myself lost on an empty dirt road,
By Bugsy Watts6 years ago in Poets
When flooded with colour I duck behind a lens. One eye open, frame it now, focus. The tantalizing visual of sunset across the water,
I was busy once At a time when my still developing brain couldn't handle busyness. I remember the feeling of time being robbed from me
Painted scene on my eyelids, all blended together white. Bundled in a parka, hat, and gloves, boots to tread along.
The day I was born, a gift sat on my bedside table. A beautiful bouquet of flowers, real or imagined… I’m not quite sure.
I pondered as I always did on the 'used to' people who lived here once. * The dusty, dirt-laden suitcase belonged to a man.
I reveal my soul in the dark of night the time when passions take their flight when the stare of people and their judging eyes
I want to capture the moments. All of the ones that matter. I want the burnt image of sparklers at dusk, twirling in senseless shapes.
By Bugsy Watts7 years ago in Poets
