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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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“I’m in love,” I declared, And dashed to reclaim the smile I’d hidden five years ago, out of sight. Through the debris, under boxes labeled “Mistakes,” Past the gadgets, the broken dreams, Each with their own hollow promise. Was I really so blind? After digging through the mess, I found it, That smile, slightly worn,
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I woke up with a jolt, as if an unseen hand had placed a profound secret on the lapel of my jacket. I had dreamt of an award ceremony, perhaps the Oscars, Grammys, or Golden Globes — the details were lost in the dream’s haze. There was one clear winner, someone whose journey had been
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The weekend ended abruptly, slammed into Monday. Regret, that old friend, crept in while I sipped on a warm beer from noon, watching the Packers fail against the Eagles. That beer sat in my gut like a bad choice. Sunday evenings, they’re a melancholy stretch. Not like those Disney nights from childhood, when the world
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The Glossy Black Crow There’s this glossy black crow, sleek and sly, Squawking and strutting, a discordant tune, With feathers like night, he claims the sky, A feast he insists is his alone to consume. * Before a motley court he pleads his case— A squirrel, two pigeons, dog, and wise old cat— Their eyes
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Check out bb grey’s poem! https://poetizer.com/poem/2579266
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I’m not sure I ever learned to live with the quiet—It just crept up,Made a home in me,Shaped the way I was seen. I never got used to the beatings—They just settled in,Dug into my soul,Found their spot,Made themselves a part of me. I know for sure I never got over you—The light you dragged
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google knows all about it, doesn’t it?how long I hover over articles aboutpeople like you. algorithms tracking mydesperation like a dog sniffing at scraps. 20 years married, another 10 datingall that time watching love dielike a plant nobody waterswhile my ex-wife turned our bed into a desert.I was crushed. yeah. I’ll admit it now.felt
“All colors made me happy even grey.” Nabokov, Pale Fire
A German carpenter by day working hard to follow a Jewish carpenter, exploring writing as a creative outlet. Passionate about learning through practice and observation.
BB Grey--musings 