Is it the writer’s fault that they think of what they write and its impact, well before it meets your eyes? Yes, because if they can take merit, they can take blame. But what blame is to be measured by gross feats that leave you within writer/mind’s eye?
musings & scribbles
Trying to edit what you’ve written is like teaching an old subject to new students.
I am in a crowd,
A photo of ourselves
Is more an indication
Of self value
And self awareness
Than any quiz
Or friend’s interpretation.
I long held comedy my armor,
To be worn in public and private both;
Yet, I do not need such now, as I
I have maturity and life experiences
Which I had not before and may not again.
A wise man makes photographs of those he loves
His outward reflection, for he knows
You want to know him,
And what better way than by who he is.
Droopy leaves,
Furry trees,
Red kisses shown when sudden breeze.
How much I love a walk in winter’d early weather; when Fall but rains on tall shoulders in a stroll!
I always do this.
I stay awake and search for some knowledge/
Something I can learn and digest;
And, when I’ve found the night’s well dry,
I slink to sleep, defeated.
I never go to sleep exhilarated, or as though
I’ve championed something. I always rub my eyes
And bury my head, slowing breath to sleep.
another brother falling down;
i just try to raise them up,
tell them i can be like them
or i can be like Him and
keep pressing on, despite
the world; I know the way
they hold onto Earthly things,
and all I have to say
is good luck with that–
I depend on Him, rise with Him,
fall with Him, belong with Him,
live for Him, give to Him
all the time I can/and more.
it’s not about who’s written
this, just who’s taken it to
heart and lived through eyes of His.
Like a cat’s tail,
On the arm of our sofa.
To keep my image fresh; oldest trick
Not written: Change to maintain relevance