Incessantly swinging the pendulum plays with us.
Left to right to left again. Repeating. Defeating.
Who winds that drum and separates these weights
Bound by his escapement our gear trains turning?
Chains to hold us parallel. Close but never to touch.
Suspended to dangle and hang. Passing again one up one down.
One rising one falling, calling, but never to never to land.
And then such force from unseen hand rips us away again.
Appreciation of Life as Story
LONG SOUL-SEARCHING CONVERSATIONS WITH MYSELF
We're all on a road to somewhere.
About fantastical places and other stuff
Experiments in the Art of Mastering None
The Modern Poetry Magazine
My Liquid Writings
A half-assed blog about booze, guilt, fitness, food, getting older, owning a home... and probably something about parenting.
Poetry, stories and some random words...
Musings about being in the world
Poetry and prose by Basilike Pappa
Ballet tips and life lessons learned from ballet
Redecorating...excuse the mess
Arts & Lit Collective
A few thoughts.....
Writings on Life, Love, Music & Whatever Comes To Mind
. . . diary of an imperfect soul
Come for the laughs, stay for the lunacy
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
Clock-ing
After 12 seconds, the clock slaps me
” Earthling, what’re you doin’?”
Me: “Oh, I’m killing you, immortal. And you?”
Clock: “Just, revolving 360 degrees since B.C.
Now what if, I kill you?”
(Took off the battery . . .)
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“There’s something comforting
About a clock with stopped hands.”
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Interesting.
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I feel a brutality in this one Wulf, but it may just be where my mind is this morning. This one hit me hard.
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Brutality? Hmm…That could be a good word. It is definitely not an uplifting piece, so it’s not just you.
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