And every week
at this point
I’m taken back
to a time
when I lived
on a farm
and every morning
a donkey ran
up to me
from the hill
honking and honking
making the same
sound as my
washing machine now
a simpler time
Author: Harlan Didrickson
I first started writing this blog as a way to refocus my thinking after a debilitating mental breakdown in 2008. Having been educated in writing, I had hoped that my love for words would have left a trail for me to follow and, well, here we are.
Kindness (to unknown)
And from afar
I read something
making me think
try kindness first
it’s hard I
know especially now
but kindness does
what winds do
they sweep away
the clouds from
the moon leaving
it to shine
brighter than before
Abstract
I think that this
morning the sky is
filled with ghosts they
stretch end to end
across the horizon ghoulish
they appear as though
purgatory took a brush
and some paint and
slapped some souls on
as though Heaven and
Hell requested an abstract
WaitWait
Like a dog
whose still waiting
for the boy
on the bus
to arrive home
so I sit
not only waiting
for the words
but also love
with each passing
sound or hello
I begin wagging
but remain watching
now wholly uncertain
if wait wait
no just another
wanting something else
and just another
car oh well
so I sit
waiting for Timmy
Buckle
I recently bought
a new belt
and the sound
that the buckle
made as it
was loosened flooded
my mind with
memories and then
I remembered why
because the first
time you and
I were together
yours reminded me
of sleigh bells
heralding a present
that I was
about to unwrap
