this heart is hemmed in
with fire breaks and cold trails
no flame can touch it
this heart is hemmed in
with fire breaks and cold trails
no flame can touch it
Enjoying Life In New Ways
Poetry, Photography, haiku,
the literary asylum
Wherever I lay my pen, that's my home
my humanity in written form
Guitarist / Songwriter
Poetry, Fiction & Photography
New content every Sunday.
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
a collection of words about my average, bog-standard life accompanied by some sub-par illustrations that depict selected moments in said life
Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
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to be worth sharing
Domenic Garisto / LIFE IS NOT A REHERSAL,SO LIVE IT..if you can't be the poet, be the poem..havau22.com
One Poet's Writing Practice
My thousand lines..
So poignant!
Oh My. Sounds like mine. Well written, Bruce.
Forgive if I have unintentionally ripped you off … I only steal from poets who died before 1900…
No, I meant “sounds like my heart”–I haven’t written one for you to steal!
Is that time or year? 1900? Ain’t that 7 p.m.? When I stalk Jeopardy answers with glib smugness. Perhaps I deflect: I, too, know the dross of over-applied heart-guard.
Altogether too optimistic: No flame? A licensed and fully practicing curmudgeon and still savoring seared hands and heart, and yet I know I am so easily succumbed to a lash at just the right level on the mast or … hell, Bruce, you know vulnerable perhaps even better than I. But, still I liked the sentiment, just not the conclusion. But makes it no less valid – at the time it was scrit!
Hi, J… These days I get lightly toasted rather than flame broiled and live to tell the tale. Vulnerable, oh, yes, don’t see how vulnerability and creativity can be separated. Perhaps I wrote these lines while sipping on the wine of sour grapes mixed with rancid self pity.
I might be off but you can usually save your butt in copyright matters if your source died before 1940. 75 years is the defining number.
This is very moving and a bit sad.