A Word is Not a Home

O at the Edges

A Word is Not a Home

A word is not a home
but we set our tables

between its walls,
cook meals, annoy

friends, abuse ourselves.
Sometimes I misplace

one, and can’t find
my house, much less

the window’s desk
or the chair behind it.

But if I wait, something
always takes form in the fog,

an arm, a ribcage, a feathered
hope struggling to emerge.

Inept, I take comfort
in these apparitions,

accept their offerings,
lose myself in mystery,

find shelter there
in the hollowed curves.

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Heart that has lost his voice

paperlanternsinpapertown

I was seeing through her eyes

She was seeing through mine

She wanted me to give her the wings

So she could fly high

I thought I was giving her a snuggle

By holding her tight

But I couldn’t understand her afflicted vibes

The moment I sent her free

She was high in skies

And I was left with a heart

That has lost his voice

I tried to console my heart

By putting bandages each around its side

That’s when I realised

We were meant to be apart

Because life is like a gloomy cage

Where every lonely bird resides……..

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Thinking Aloud on a Sunday

beetleypete

A peaceful Sunday morning in Beetley. Hazy sunshine, and two new blog posts published. I was just reading this post, from another blogger. https://johnlimingsblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/03/rich-day-poor-day-in-between-day/

John Liming is an American, and fourteen years older than me. He is a long-term blogger, known for his outspoken political views, occasional rants, and no-nonsense attitude. Many may disagree with what he says, including me, at least most of the time. But he also has a lot to say about what life is like when you are older. When you have to learn to settle for a different way of life, and changing aspirations. Perhaps because I am officially older myself, I find these that thoughts frequently resonate for me, and have a poignancy that makes me become reflective too.

Behind the political diatribes, there is much to discover in John’s long history. His writing is sometimes tinged with a melancholy that I find affecting…

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Thinking Aloud on a Sunday

beetleypete

On with the motley.

I woke up thinking about this today. Many of us know the word from the opera, Pagliacci. The tragic clown puts on his costume and make-up, (the motley) and has to entertain the crowd, despite his sadness.

What faces do bloggers like us show to the world? We publish our posts about things that interest us, and may interest others. Writing, photos, cute animals, poetry, and so much more. Our opinions, our politics, sometimes hopes and fears. We may have a photo on our blog, showing us smiling out at the world, enjoying an exotic holiday, or a potentially dangerous adventure.

Some of us write up posts most days; hosting challenges, reviewing things, reblogging the work of others, or just saying what we are going to do today, or what we did yesterday. Beneath all these musings and meanderings there are our real lives. The lives…

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