No one asks
Everyone just thinks
How can they
All be certain
Or is it
That few care
Or care just
Enough to give
In order to
Get what’s wanted
Dangling a worm
In front of
The unsuspecting fish
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.
SexIn22
It seems like no
One wishes to know
They would rather feel
Like little blind mice
Bumping into other things
Hoping to find a
Bit of cheese maybe
A morsel or crumb
Anything which might carry
Them from one to
The next to the
Next to the next
Over and over again
Until one clamps shut
Ending this desperate parade
PlantNotLay
Leave the past behind
March forward like Romans
But rather than laying
Waste to the countryside
Instead plant the seedlings
Of love hope wisdom
For those three things
Will gain a foothold
And bear bountiful harvest
Long after you’ve gone
MenHa
So many many men
Who look like men
Have egos as delicate
As a freshly iced
Pond in late November
One awkward step and
It disintegrates as quickly
As a sugar cube
Dropped into hot tea
And you’re left blinking
And wondering why what
Part of not interested
Is so damn damaging
As you watch them
Run under the hem
Of their mama’s skirt
SmallCorners
I think that what’s
Important is the small
Corner of the bigger
World we all live
In such a place
That corner which disappears
Like mist above ponds
Like dreams upon waking
But to us our
Very own tiny corner
Is enough to sweep
To tidy to decorate
And to welcome others
Whose own little corners
Got swallowed up by
This our round world
