Lost, or: Found

A Byr a Thoddaid Consumed she his whole imagination... temptation, deep within. He'd turn, but would find no one there... Where'd she gone to, his lady fair? Never once did he doubt her existence ~ Sultry dances; firm legs... Friends and family were concerned ~ He came all company to spurn. He was soon beyond… Continue reading Lost, or: Found

Tempus fugit-ives, or: Gunfight

My 2nd Byr a Thoddaid Creaking; I sit; is that my back? Shifting old office chair a crack; Base squeaking, as I tilt backwards a bit - With wit whetting my words. Poems come 'tween work assignments. Concepts clear as I refine 'em; Keyboard, clack-clacking, shapes dark produces - Nooses loosened escape. Fugitives run through… Continue reading Tempus fugit-ives, or: Gunfight

Through wide windows, or: Through the dark

My first Byr a Thoddaid Some find inspiration outside, While I, flailing, remain defied; Left wondering if these brown eyes are blind, As mind through the dark flies My third eye's wont to look always within, Wherein reverie plays; Towering mountains; bubbling streams; Lush valleys; elves dance in moonbeams Through wide windows, I hear horns… Continue reading Through wide windows, or: Through the dark