Keep WalkingWind chill minus ten
Colder in the shade
Diamond dust on frigid leaves
Crunchy crystal grass
Puffs of clouds in my face
Red eyes, dripping nose
Frozen ears, hair's too short
Left my hat at home
Long johns and heavy jeans
Instead of pantyhose
Dressed up like a big balloon
Trying to keep warm
Spring's only three months away
Grace?Might thou be a bit sharp today
To speek thusly to the Svein?
To growl and curse and spit at him
And to emply out thy brain?
Didst thee forget the purpose
Whereupon we must be bent?
To bring them to their unworthy knees,
And at the feet of Jesus to repent?
(and not thine)
Remember they are sinners lost
And only by our love will know
How Jesus would be treating them
If they but would bow low.
The subject header be "His Grace".
Therefore please do make a patch.
Please not to blaim the Svein
If thee have lost a tennis match.
Just a country girl.
Never ridden a city bus.
Myriads of questions:
Where do I put the coins?
Where should I sit?
Am I on the right bus?
Intending to read a book
I watch the scenery instead:
Babies and octogenarians
Rocked to sleep
By the gentle earthquake
Of the oscillating bus.
Two teens connected
By an umbilical cord
With ear plugs on each end.
Heads bobbing in perfect rhythm.
A man that had to run
Several blocks to catch the bus
Who doesn't know that his jacket
Is wrong side out.
A plain clothed policeman
Pretending to be inconspicuous
As he scans passengers
Every ten seconds.
The man with the bulging eyes
From a cinched up tie
Flailing himself with newsprint
To drive away the demons
That are trying to hang him
And burn him alive.
The menace in black leather
With the silver buckle,
Heavy boots and Twelve inch bowie knife
Strapped to his leg.
LET ME OUTTA HERE!
Don't ForgetHoney, please get me a pen and paper,
I want to write this down so I won't forget.
My nose feels like two Lilliputians
Opened umbrellas in my nostrils.
Please don't laugh--it hurts.
My red orbs feel like pulsing strobe lites.
My back has a river of fire cascading
Through it's tributaries.
Bursts of saliva threaten to overflow
The dam in my mandible.
If I go to sleep I might drown.
I'm so glad I didn't have pumpkin pie
And cranberries after my fever started.
My covers are immitating a mitral valve
On an uphill run.
My teeth have a headache.
I can't get the lid off the water bottle.
This pen is too heavy.
Thanks you Lord for reminding me never
To brag about being immune to the flu.
Quote from recuperating honey:
"It don't seem there could be this
much pain without some shrapnel."
Country in the CityTrying to read a book on the patio
surrounded by Tall, green sentinels
shielding me from the neighbors.
The hot summer sun
slowly turning my skin
into a sea of freckles
except for the patch
under my chin
that never tans
because I read too much.
A brisk breeze
skimming the trees
reduced to a whisper
before it caresses my hair
and cools the rivulets
running down my neck.
A cacophony of rustling elm leaves
drowning out the kids in the city pool,
the occasional siren, the cars driving by
and the humming of air conditioners.
A bee mistaking me for a flower.
A fly using my knee for a heliport.
An ant tickling the hairs on my leg.
A visiting moth leaving a bead
of excrement on my book.
That's enough country for today!
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