The walls are bare and white,
But they should be blues and yellows and maybe even some reds
Afraid.
Of colour. I fear brightness, but crave it.
What
What if I splashed yellows and greens on the cupboards
What
What if the drops fell on the floor.
What
What if messiness invaded my life.
The whites would fade…
…yellows and oranges
And even greens and blues
They would invade my being
Take over and tell me.
No, more whites.
No, more.
confessions are self-serving
Life somehow is chasing rainbows with a stranger; with that, you'll never be lonely.
With a Challenger-deep Sentiments
Words are beautiful beyond meanings
Novelist, Poet, Wordsmith
weird alien 👽
the literary asylum
Understanding someone’s way with words isn’t as simple as you think.
Talk Books. Drink Coffee.
WITHIN ARE PIECES OF ME
Poetry from an English Hart
.......is writing
Lucidly in shadows. Poetry from a hand that writes misty.
Occasional Musing
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
Because poetry. And petals.
thoughtsgather 