Photo by shutterstock
From smartertravel.com
on a walk in the weather
I bumped into yesterday
looked just like me
stuck a gun in my ribs
and stole all my youth
as I fell like the rain
pouring out of myself
slipping into the gutter
my wrinkled bones
riding a river of rubbish
right into the yawning
black drain of tomorrow
Writer & Poet Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
You don't know where you are going. You don't know how to get there. And you arrive just the same. Ghanaian saying
Poésie sous les étoiles
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
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Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
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You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
VICEDOMINI OF THE WUP New Name, New Location! Welcome to our poetry corner, The Poets’ Corner NEW SITE! The name has been changed to (our) because it belongs to all of us who post! Sincerely hope you find the change easy and exciting to be here! Please feel free to post and comment your thoughts so we all can enjoy!
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...
damn!
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a fine useful word
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a late twentieth century expression of admiration!
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What are we? 97% water? Great image: ‘pouring out of myself / slipping into the gutter / my wrinkled bones / riding a river of rubbish’ . . . I know that feeling . . .
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it’s a wonder we don’t slosh as move about
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