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Those closest to you
The ones who thought they knew
Didn't have the slightest clue
Until the day you took and glued
Birds of a feather to you
Setting your sights on high cruise
Spreading your wings like most birds do
In the blink of a wink off you flew

This all along a part of the plan
Bird on a wing, off on the wind
Taking a chance on the yes, you can
Done with the past that kept you on land
Glue stuck to you with feathers in hand
Change of attitude like the little bird said
With the feeling of free the moment you left
Bird of a feather, bird on a wing,
never to be heard nor seen from again
I believe I have reached a point
of creative decline. Been on HP
since 2013. Close to 350 poems.
I may have thought and said
about all I have to offer.

Hard to come up with any real
original worthy material, the
old well might have run dry.
Or maybe my brain is growing
addled. That happens in our 80s.

In idle times I will still look in
on you all. I have enjoyed my
time here and made some fine
and talented writer and poet
friends. Thank you.

Adieu good and gentle people.
No illness or anything dire.
Just tired. I am thinking of
taking a pottery class.
 Jun 15 Whit Howland
Onoma
The most violent

act I can conceive--

is putting myself in

her shoes.

Where a flame

crawled back to

wick.
They hit the beach
From the other way
So their ghosts
Could get compared
To that
They met in the fray
Went to see that new Wes Anderson number last night
Entitled The Phoenician Scheme
An excellent effort all round
Scene
By scene
By scene
I've always admired his movies
But this seemed a cut above
In pacing
Framing
And intensity
A true labour of love
But there seemed
Something extra
A deeper meaning
For me to take
The gods of cinema talking to me
Or perhaps
***** rice crispie cake.
King Kong
Went wrong
When they brought a blonde along
He only wanted to be loved
It could only end one way.
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