Mother’s history, no mater how hysterical…entrenches me.
I despair in the here-say.
The delight of what could be.
How long the sagging eyelid of clouds over a no name mountain?
How long the gentle placement of boulder over stone…
Gritty granite towel drying ancient flora…and, elderly fauna.
What has brought you and I here?
Why do you insist on repair?
Mother’s history makes a mockery of my vanity…
of the human in me.
And, yet her charm continues to conceive.
Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
Mina upplevelser på de konserter och musikaler jag sett
a written aspirations to inspire.
Frank Regan in words
Just a messenger of the Lord
Pen to paper.
Word-Experimentalist
Running, Writing, Real Life Experiences & Relatable Content.
Rare Poetry and Food stories
Drawing a line through 50
viral quotes and pictures
I read lots of books, from mythology retellings to literary fiction and I love to reread books from childhood, this is a place to voice my thoughts for fun. I also like to ramble about things such as art or nature every now and again.
How to make it
You'r Looking At The Right Place, Your Soul!
tips , tricks , advices
LOOKING INTO THE PAST ....
Original Beats By JakeBreh
Enjoying Life in the Ozarks
Life in Copenhagen, Denmark, after moving during Covid-19.
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