When we live in a world where satellites can find us with pinpoint accuracy; why do we feel so lost?
But you are like a bolt out of the blue. The sparkle on the edge of a star. Everything has meaning and everything is full. Not just half full. No short measured optimism. The glass is full.
With clumsy club foot David crept the creaking corridors, circling the spiralling stairs.
For today’s challenge, Paddy The Poet asked me to write about ‘Integrity’ – I’d love to claim credit for these beautiful words, however, here is my attempt at a found poem. I need your help! I have another 12 days left to go on this challenge. Please comment with any suggestions that you have for challenges…
We bury our friends even though they may not be dead.
Not in sleep, but in the moments and hours between; I waste valuable seconds, minutes, and months on feeling instead of doing. Imagined futures and projected fantasies that come to nothing permeate the fog of a life lived in some half-awake state.
Mixed emotions flank the end of an illustrious career. Hard toil giving way to empty days. The rush of the nine-to-five now leaving space for brunch and afternoon tea.
Feeling the funk emanate we shuffled and boogied. Like zombies of the nights on Broadway- arms thrusting moving to the beat. Not knowing where we were going strutting with the love train, and surviving like Donna Summer we had been trapped in this nightlife limbo of lasers and smoke machines.
It had been a hard day’s night and John, Paul, George, and Ringo had all been working like dogs. They were, of course, aging dogs now, Macca and Ringo were well over sixty-four.
Outside pack rear. Favourite place. Whistle blows. Black jammer takes lead. Double pip, the pack moves on.