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Weeping oneself to sleep – by these muddy
tears, and their questions of worth.

As the relentless sands of time erode a soul;
it's all too simple to feel like grains of river sand,
drawn by the currents of life, and banking on your
dreams; yearning for our stream of tears to lead
us to a flood of many successes.

For in those moments, we are but the weeping
sandman’s tears, drifting into the embrace of our
dreams, lost in the wet lament of our tears –

One day, we shall master the art of swimming!
  Mar 4 Traveler
Dr Peter Lim
I'm the perhaps
the maybe of life
things are never determinate
I struggle and strive

yet, all else aside
my strategies I devise
despite storms and stresses
I've managed to survive

life might not like
to dance with me--I don't mind
I'll play the game of living solo
and aim at the height

my perhaps and maybe
has never been a blight
I'm my own destiny
I need no other guide
  Mar 4 Traveler
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

        William Ernest Henley Never Owned a Snapper Lawnmower

                                                 Unsparkus

Out of the oil that covers me
Black as the pit of a president’s soul
I resent whatever flawed designs may be
With my unmechanical soul

In the fell clutch of a slippery clutch
I have often winced and cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of that son-of-a-Dutch
“I’ll junk this [mess]!” I have avowed

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of engine-part prices
And yet the promise of a case of cold beers
Finds me hammering again at these devices

It matters not how high the grass
How charged with prices the hardware store bill
I am going to whip this foul machine’s [self]
Or bury the [buzzard] in the nearest landfill!




Legal stuff:

William Ernest Henley, "Invictus," from Poems (London: Macmillan and Co., 1920): 83-84. Public domain.
Invictus
I never struggled with my thoughts,
I understand I think this way because that's the thinker I got.

The only problem in my thinking,
Is the fact you don't understand my thoughts,
That's still not my fault.
The plight of many elaborate thinkers is the fact not everybody can think on their level.
Traveler Mar 3
Life is a rough ride,
I’ve never been broken but I’ve lived through hell several times.

If I could have a reset…
Where would I pop in?
What would I leave behind
but the wisdom of my sins..

No, I think I’ll keep them intact
in the here and now!
After all
there is nothing I lack
that hasn’t gone afoul.
Traveler Tim
Tool 7empest is playing in the background this morning.
  Mar 2 Traveler
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                      The Seven Seeing-Stones

Good Tolkien writes of spring far better than we
With layered allusions to Celtic and Nordic myths
His Fairy Folk sing clearly in rainbow rhymes
Among the crocuses abloom ‘round ancient trees

My crocuses bloom ‘round a shaggy lawn
With garden furniture in need of paint
And morning coffee in a Tupperware cup
To serve as a greeting to the rising sun

Friend Tolkien writes of spring for you and me
And through his Seven Seeing-Stones – we see!
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