#250
What was and what could
have been, a
perfect day. A sweet film,
a distance felt, one day,
between two probable loves,
probable hurt, my calculations
have been wrong for weeks,
but at least my stomach is
full, which is saying a lot
in a country like this. i'm
certainly not starving, for
adventure, for love, or anything
of that lot. And with that thought
i'll dream deeply, wishing
to light a few candles in the
darkness for a few friends forward
as the other artists did
before me.
#251
How astounding to find the
clock at the correct
time, how flawless the friendships,
it was foretold to be a bad year
and now that it's finished,
there is light at the end of
the tunnel, and i feel
fantastic.
#252
These are the comforts
i've been missing, found in
friendships only unknown,
there's just so much meaning,
sitting in this home thats not my home.
We speak of great artists
and the power we're blessedly shown,
we laugh and joke for hours
here, in her spectacular home.
For me, there is no envy,
i just wish to no go,
its all written so clearly
our lives are meant as poems.
#253
My pen moves so freely
as it dances across the page.
The letters look so different
day to day to day. Today, if,
i could speak to them all so clearly,
i wonder what to say,
i wonder if they'd hear me,
and who, in fact, are they?
#254
Easing into the
currents of Life's
river, toes breaking
the surface, in and
out of the sun-rays
through the branches
and leaves a gentle
knowing pull, slow,
sporadic chirps and
whistles and occasional
glimpses of a robin blue sky
dolloped with cotton clouds
the Sun is somewhere,
somewhere close,
hiding behind trees,
and i am making my way
slowly chasing West.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write