Vanitas
I see in bones and marrow, broken skulls and crimson ink on parchment scribbled: words in vain repeated songs of harrow; cull of reaper: blood on pillow, chest that hurts. […]
I see in bones and marrow, broken skulls and crimson ink on parchment scribbled: words in vain repeated songs of harrow; cull of reaper: blood on pillow, chest that hurts. […]
I do neither crave adventures, nor a struggle to brighten Monday mornings. When riding bicycle to work there are little changes every day. Every morning’s different. Today for instance air […]
This poem’s inked in white There is time to breathe inhale exhale with space b e t w e e n the words. This poem’s sylla- bled in calm It’s […]
practising for a whole life
dancing with my muse
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis
Now we see through a glass, darkly
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.