From the forecourt to the tennis court, how many miles must he splash until he wishes for his law court, to end? Days? Maybe weeks? But who can tell when foes are bound to stifle whatever truths are bound to peak. To the drinking den where voices sound like hens, beckoning for worries to end; fend off those foes whose lies and deceit wish for your happiness to end. "More wine!" For what is presence but a stifle to one's peace of mind. "More wine!" Red, lushness, deep, like cheeks on the faces of those who sing, "More wine!" To court! Whatever filly comes my way. "More wine!"
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James Green
Weaving words into captivating worlds, this author's storytelling will transport you to realms of imagination and leave you breathless.
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JEWELS. HEAD. WHITE. WINDOW.
Jewels around the head, white dress in the window. Look but don't stare, for what will others think when shyness becomes too apparent to bear; hearts for eyes, bowing down before lies, sitting up seated for rest in the embrace of those wiser than wise. Be calm, be still, life, what a thrill. Be wise, be still, for what is life but a thrill. Sail forth, calm seas, fresh air, calm breeze; seventy-three, more left to please. The sea, so clear, jewelled head, brown chair; sit down mon frère, for a story awaits for you to hear and for others to share.
By James Green4 years ago in Poets
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