I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Another year has passed Never to return Not to be altered or refined Immovable as a mountain, obstinate and taciturn
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
The bell of liberty is sundered now No longer audible is freedom’s ring To mend its broken form, we know not how For it is cracked, along with everything
Operators, or verbal false limbs. These save the trouble of picking out appropriate verbs and nouns, and at the same time pad each sentence with extra syllables which give it an appearance of symmetry.
Write something awful Then atone for that blunder Through better writing
The trouble may be that we are confused About the meaning of coveted love So seldom offered, so often refused It seems to be a tone, seen from above
Bear it in mind that Tedious solitude moves Gods to create worlds
There are minds that will misread this image As a puerile euphemism made real I would argue that here is a meaning Waiting for better reading to reveal
After your last drink Most of your drinking buddies Will vanish; don't mourn
These towers smell like stale perspiration Liberty multiplies anxiety; Where the destiny of a stunned nation Is made, efficiency is piety
The magpies scold me They are scandalized by my Fear of taking flight
Disobedience Animating works of art Wins your grudging love
Clear sunset banding Suspended in aging sky Advancing night signs
