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Monday, March 12, 2018. Sometimes I will allow myself. A song of lament no one hears. Oh god oh god oh god. And lament, lament,. I sing as I walk. The comfort is in the singing. Of the song no one may ever hear. Or Someone may hear, I not knowing. Sing and listen,. And listen and sing. Links to this post. Wednesday, February 21, 2018. When the last person walks out of the room. I think about that I will die. And it does not disturb me,. So I think I do not really think that I will die. So then I live.

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poetreehugger | poetreehugger.blogspot.com Reviews

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Monday, March 12, 2018. Sometimes I will allow myself. A song of lament no one hears. Oh god oh god oh god. And lament, lament,. I sing as I walk. The comfort is in the singing. Of the song no one may ever hear. Or Someone may hear, I not knowing. Sing and listen,. And listen and sing. Links to this post. Wednesday, February 21, 2018. When the last person walks out of the room. I think about that I will die. And it does not disturb me,. So I think I do not really think that I will die. So then I live.

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1 poetreehugger

2 it goes

3 as i walk

4 as i think

5 as i hear

6 posted by poetreehugger

7 0 comments

8 the indecision

9 blurred vision

10 facing the future

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poetreehugger | poetreehugger.blogspot.com Reviews

https://poetreehugger.blogspot.com

Monday, March 12, 2018. Sometimes I will allow myself. A song of lament no one hears. Oh god oh god oh god. And lament, lament,. I sing as I walk. The comfort is in the singing. Of the song no one may ever hear. Or Someone may hear, I not knowing. Sing and listen,. And listen and sing. Links to this post. Wednesday, February 21, 2018. When the last person walks out of the room. I think about that I will die. And it does not disturb me,. So I think I do not really think that I will die. So then I live.

INTERNAL PAGES

poetreehugger.blogspot.com

1

poetreehugger: October 2014

http://poetreehugger.blogspot.com/2014_10_01_archive.html

Thursday, October 30, 2014. Thoughts on the last days of a good man and close friend whose life ended in suffering because of a degenerative disease. As I stepped on the downward stair. I reached for a railing that wasn't there. But that was not the scariest. As I got to the bottom floor. I opened what was not a door. Into a space of dark and gloom. That wasn't anything like a room. I wonder where my prayers went. It's dark and silent, this I know;. But silent dark may be friend or foe. Death is a clap.

2

poetreehugger: One day last week

http://poetreehugger.blogspot.com/2015/07/one-day-last-week.html

Sunday, July 19, 2015. One day last week. I caught myself impatient. Washing lettuce from my garden. Wanting to be finished,. On to something more exciting. I halted in the moment. What bubbled up was thank you. Good God I have a garden. And fresh nutritious lettuce. I am not even feeling hunger for. And water clean available. To wash my washing hands. Today the sun is shining. It is so much more than enough. As I stay here in this moment. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A blues song in the morning.

3

poetreehugger: March 2015

http://poetreehugger.blogspot.com/2015_03_01_archive.html

Friday, March 27, 2015. Lava in my gut. Flames fill my veins. Steam on my breath. Vitriol when I vomit. I boil when I weep. Gentle puffs of smoke. Links to this post. Monday, March 9, 2015. Don't leave me, winter! With your long cool nights of ease,. With your so efficient cooling me. In mere seconds when I need relief. All your lovely melting snow. Trickling away between the fingers of this land. I would hold on but I destroy you with the warmth of my grasping hand. Links to this post. Links to this post.

4

poetreehugger: July 2015

http://poetreehugger.blogspot.com/2015_07_01_archive.html

Friday, July 24, 2015. A blues song in the morning. Today I drifted awake with a blues song forming in my head. A slow and low man's voice, head bent over his guitar, bass notes stepping down to the final line in the chorus. Evenings I sit all alone with a drink in my hand. Mornings I lie in bed waiting for the courage to stand. Years keep on passing like water through the fingers of my hand. Why is it life never goes just as you planned. I wander these rooms remembering what used to be. One day last week.

5

poetreehugger

http://poetreehugger.blogspot.com/2015/07/upon-blind-of-my-upstairs-window.html

Sunday, July 19, 2015. Upon the blind of my upstairs window. Wind blown leafy branches. Like people passing by. From the corners of my sight,. Look up but they are vanished strangers. The wind has stilled. So I go back to my reading. In late afternoon my pyjamas surprise me. By my still wearing them. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A blues song in the morning. One day last week. Upon the blind of my upstairs windowShadows move,W. View my complete profile. Blogs I keep coming back to.

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Monday, March 12, 2018. Sometimes I will allow myself. A song of lament no one hears. Oh god oh god oh god. And lament, lament,. I sing as I walk. The comfort is in the singing. Of the song no one may ever hear. Or Someone may hear, I not knowing. Sing and listen,. And listen and sing. Links to this post. Wednesday, February 21, 2018. When the last person walks out of the room. I think about that I will die. And it does not disturb me,. So I think I do not really think that I will die. So then I live.

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