Apocalypse day forty five
That
Is interesting ….
poetry
Apocalypse day forty
Apocalypse day forty
Thunder
Grappling with senses, emotions … Thunder rolls in reminding me, time is still passing. Somewhere there is a whisper to open the window and feel it passing.
Apocalypse day three
Apocalypse day 3
Acording to Merriam-Webster the definition of empathy is:
-
1: the imaginative projection of a subjective state into an object so that the object appears to be infused with it
-
2: the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner; also : the capacity for this
- Another words
- You do not to be a woman or the same race or whatever with another person to feel someone else’s pain or pleasure.
- You just need to be able to feel.
B is for Big Banana Business Behemoth
B is for Big Banana Business Behemoth
There’s no business
like a Bigly Braggadocious Banana Business
It’s YUGE
It’s Smart
It’s gold plated
One of a kind
Deal
The cell
From inside
Looking out
Reaching through the bars to feel the grass
To see the sun
The wind blowing through the trees
So the world is spinning
The west wind is singing me to sleep
Dreaming
I’m awake
I’m awake
I’m awake
I should be watching the clock
The clock with hands
I never understood what it meant
To me it always meant wait
Until
It meant too late
It always meant should have
Until
It meant could have
I don’t have clock hands
I have shadows
And the sleeping cat
And the wind through the trees
And the dream
A is for Autocratic Apple
A is for Autocratic Apple
Whose name you might recall
A thin skinned leader
Who came to power
On the promise
Of building a great Wall
I’m nobody too!
Sometimes she worried that someone would hear all those mutterings and mumblings she mumbled and muttered to herself
Knowing they were growing louder and louder
Somehow she couldn’t stop herself
And one day she just screamed…
But, it was okay
Because,
nobody was listening
and no one listens to them
_________
*For Emily Dickinson
The art of racing clouds
Lying here, feeling so high
As the clouds go drifting by
I dream my dreams and let them fly
Sending my prayers in flight like the dove
Where the clouds race so high above
Far from me and the strife below
Where we struggle as friend and foe
Far from this journey, where I fear to go
They say,
“Alone we are born, and alone we die”
And from this journey we cannot flee or hide
But we are not alone it seems
So this is why I dream my dreams
Sending prayers both night and day
I pray for wisdom to show me the way
And now with new dreams to soar and fly
I find myself here again, watching the sky
As the clouds go racing by
Starting over
Snow in spring
Robins building nests
As snow swirls on new blossoms
Clinging to my coat
