I enjoyed a nice cigar last evening on the back deck alone with my thoughts. I really just don't know where my writing is going these days. I am getting an occasional poem to trickle out but it isn't as easy as it used to be. I don't know if they were ever any good anyway. It's frustrating to be without a peer to bounce them off of. At least then you can read the non verbal cues as to how good the said passage or poem may have been. Even the blogging has me wondering... is it constructive, worth the time that i put into it. Maybe I don't have anything interesting to contribute to the wide web community. anyway on and on...
speaking of worthless poetry ;-)
The daylight
The dawn daylight and the eve's
light fade
Silence descends
ascending to crescendo
Midnight through mayan blues
Its hues wash down to
the horizon.
Falling through white
through gold
Splashing into deep red
and pale brown.
The hillside silent as to
its slope
The distance of the rise
only shown in the
snowy patches
The evergreens silent and
black, still silouhettes
against which the spectrum
shines through
~PullTab
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