Centre CourtWe wore our Sunday best, and walked through Kipling's gates; wrought iron and ancient.Centre Court
It was a sunny day, and our seats were high.
We looked down at the stars, oh! how they shone in almost entirely white. they walk the hallowed ground, these mortal gods, and bow to nothing but a name.
Today, titans clashed, a holy war. Bombs fired, missiles unleashed, it was all angles and speed.
He stopped and screamed, waved and raved, "You cannot be serious!" He flung his weapon to the ground and we went outside for straw
For Where She LiesThere is nothing I want More than twelve red roses For the lady I love.For Where She Lies
Every silken petal Glowing, bleeding crimson, Staining creamy paleness.
Even one will do, sir, Only it not be none, for Even stones need colour.
MuseShe speaks to me in tongues of mystery, telling the tales she lived in places no one can see.Muse
We fly on clouds of recycled paper, fueled by inkstains of memories we've lived and dreams we wouldn't.
Morning sun and January chills, first breath, new hope - maybe tomorrow will be better.
Flights of imagination, fancies and wishful thoughts, caricatures of character and divinities devolved; searching, searching, searching.
But
where are we going?
Out of Storage
Neutral
i'll keep ya updated.
--
StJoan, M.D. of DramaLlamaology
Literature GD at your service.
--
Support me in my 2009 HIV/AIDS Walk
StJoan, M.D. of DramaLlamaology
Literature GM at your service.
I 'retired' because it wasn't fun anymore. I used to put stuff up here because people would tell me useful things about them. Now, all they do is nod politely and stroke your hand or something. We grow up, and then what used to fit us doesn't anymore.
You should come to Mumbai sometime. I'll buy you coffee. Maybe beer if you're old enough by then.
Are you well?
--
Literature Gallery Moderator
For Writers: Resource Central: Part One | Resource Central: Part Two
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