Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"sparring" poems
i. not bad, i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing for the first time ever ; not bad was my way to say extraordinary still is today i have standards, you see and — well... they were met when i heard you say, "that's only half what i can do." let's get this straight: i was the best at what i do until you came around ; it's not like i'm mad though — quite the opposite  in fact. ii. here's something else: i have always liked the way your eyes shot daggers even when you were smiling ; a death stare, they named it and, you know, i won't call them wrong — i'm rather fluent with the concepts of death and staring myself, after all. ah, do you remember? when we spoke to each other — it was always a sparring of eyes rather than words. iii. a fact: you have been called cold more often than you have been called pleasant ; i know  — it's not like you'd disagree not like you'd be stupid enough to deny ; cold is a comfortable shadow to hide in, something people like us wear as a coat or a scarf from july to june. now, there's this saying that the addition of two negative objects turns them a positive result ; i'm not much of a scholar so, honey, what's on your mind? iv. i get it now, if i'm propellers you are wings — rather than a mirror, we're distorted reflects a thing evolution knows a great deal about ; this yearning is the aspect of you i'd wish to keep bottled up ; "what for?" you'd ask. no, yearning is not a thing i'm a stranger to ; i've yearned for many things including strength sleep serotonin and you — i've been struggling to make them mine, though perhaps because i'm never really trying. v. that's how you do it: you take what you want with clawed hands accomplish miracles with thunderous silence — an entity of cruel fairness, icy anger but — what you want is a complicated thing with definite shape to your eyes but blurry to those of others. okay, i'm neither believer nor seer but here's a little prediction : the day you are satisfied is the day hellmouth shuts down upon us all and half of me prays for it. vi. about extremes — some will say grey is a better shade and though i confess it does have its charms, it still has to paint me a picture more striking than a soul with adamentine purpose. see — i stare as you pass by, terrific in beauty beautiful in hardness and off — goes my heart, sanity, ego and shirt.
0
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
digressions on polarity
i. not bad, i commented to myself as i watched you do your thing for the first time ever ; not bad was my way to say extraordinary still is today i have standards, you see and — well... they were met when i heard you say, "that's only half what i can do." let's get this straight: i was the best at what i do until you came around ; it's not like i'm mad though — quite the opposite  in fact. ii. here's something else: i have always liked the way your eyes shot daggers even when you were smiling ; a death stare, they named it and, you know, i won't call them wrong — i'm rather fluent with the concepts of death and staring myself, after all. ah, do you remember? when we spoke to each other — it was always a sparring of eyes rather than words. iii. a fact: you have been called cold more often than you have been called pleasant ; i know  — it's not like you'd disagree not like you'd be stupid enough to deny ; cold is a comfortable shadow to hide in, something people like us wear as a coat or a scarf from july to june. now, there's this saying that the addition of two negative objects turns them a positive result ; i'm not much of a scholar so, honey, what's on your mind? iv. i get it now, if i'm propellers you are wings — rather than a mirror, we're distorted reflects a thing evolution knows a great deal about ; this yearning is the aspect of you i'd wish to keep bottled up ; "what for?" you'd ask. no, yearning is not a thing i'm a stranger to ; i've yearned for many things including strength sleep serotonin and you — i've been struggling to make them mine, though perhaps because i'm never really trying. v. that's how you do it: you take what you want with clawed hands accomplish miracles with thunderous silence — an entity of cruel fairness, icy anger but — what you want is a complicated thing with definite shape to your eyes but blurry to those of others. okay, i'm neither believer nor seer but here's a little prediction : the day you are satisfied is the day hellmouth shuts down upon us all and half of me prays for it. vi. about extremes — some will say grey is a better shade and though i confess it does have its charms, it still has to paint me a picture more striking than a soul with adamentine purpose. see — i stare as you pass by, terrific in beauty beautiful in hardness and off — goes my heart, sanity, ego and shirt.
Continue reading...
116
Being held in your embrace, Your head against my chest. How could you wonder why, I love this so so much? It's gentle security against the: Mind that claws itself every day, People sparring against our hope, Tumultuous times this life gives. An act of love, of friendship, Compassion and closeness. You are my companion, A joy unrivalled in my life. Everything said here, Is captured in a perfect act: Our arms wrapping around, Bodies pressed together. Your hugs. My hugs.
0
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
Your Hugs
*i once had a girl from poland over, gave her the tourism of london, a daughter of my mother's friend.* i suffered sun stroke one day out with her, blonde hair and all, i was bound to feel the cold shivers, went to a party with a school-friend of mine and her... i was left in a bed shivering, he later said he didn't want to say it but did, that they kissed... like i didn't know the shorthand for oral *** now i'm drinking a beer, write one poem weeping, another like this one laughing prior, slapping myself in the cheek... two slaps to the face i didn't receive from prostitutes **** your moral relativism, you people only know that theft and ****** and **** are equal in the cauldron of einstein's space-and-time, i accept physical relativism, but i loath moral relativism, it's like giving an umbrella to the man under a champagne waterfall - and an anorak to a man under a waterfall of cow **** - yep, slaps outside the brothel, the kind women became knights' sparring partners for the oath undertaken, it was a practice among knights to get a handkerchief to ease the sting later... but when prostitutes don't slap you for trying to sort your life in order to provide, you sort of become two knights, twin siamese, you slap yourself because all that st. thomas gospel wisdom went into sex-augmentation procedures and cheap cancer victims with pill-for-pill profiteering... leisurely ladies of societies made rich by easy money, watching operas but still preferring to notice what their neighbours were wearing, the peasant snobism who are more distracted by what others wear rather than the music... a herd of wilder-beasts could ease out more tears at an opera than these "precious" ladies of the new post-aristocratic society of easy money... you drink beer, laugh, slap yourself silly on the cheeks for more laughter... your brain becomes a monkey in a cage gone mad rather than turning docile... so she came over and enjoyed my company, spotted a fox in an alley to a surprise... but then i got rudely told that oral *** was a kiss... well **** me there's a cataphract - let's ***** slap him silly so no byzantine philosopher cared to exist.
0
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
the 2nd age of chivalry
*i once had a girl from poland over, gave her the tourism of london, a daughter of my mother's friend.* i suffered sun stroke one day out with her, blonde hair and all, i was bound to feel the cold shivers, went to a party with a school-friend of mine and her... i was left in a bed shivering, he later said he didn't want to say it but did, that they kissed... like i didn't know the shorthand for oral *** now i'm drinking a beer, write one poem weeping, another like this one laughing prior, slapping myself in the cheek... two slaps to the face i didn't receive from prostitutes **** your moral relativism, you people only know that theft and ****** and **** are equal in the cauldron of einstein's space-and-time, i accept physical relativism, but i loath moral relativism, it's like giving an umbrella to the man under a champagne waterfall - and an anorak to a man under a waterfall of cow **** - yep, slaps outside the brothel, the kind women became knights' sparring partners for the oath undertaken, it was a practice among knights to get a handkerchief to ease the sting later... but when prostitutes don't slap you for trying to sort your life in order to provide, you sort of become two knights, twin siamese, you slap yourself because all that st. thomas gospel wisdom went into sex-augmentation procedures and cheap cancer victims with pill-for-pill profiteering... leisurely ladies of societies made rich by easy money, watching operas but still preferring to notice what their neighbours were wearing, the peasant snobism who are more distracted by what others wear rather than the music... a herd of wilder-beasts could ease out more tears at an opera than these "precious" ladies of the new post-aristocratic society of easy money... you drink beer, laugh, slap yourself silly on the cheeks for more laughter... your brain becomes a monkey in a cage gone mad rather than turning docile... so she came over and enjoyed my company, spotted a fox in an alley to a surprise... but then i got rudely told that oral *** was a kiss... well **** me there's a cataphract - let's ***** slap him silly so no byzantine philosopher cared to exist.
Continue reading...
59
I’ve been going to this boxing gym and training every week. And everyone there is fighting something You can see in their Eyes They’re punching their dad Or they’re punching Whoever their wife is sleeping with Or they're punching Their kids who ignore them Or they’re punching Themselves. Their boss Their job Their alcohol problem Their poverty And every week we get to fight our problems together And we’re exploding inside. What? You can’t fight your problems? It’s not only that I can. I will. And do. Because crying alone isn’t good enough Because all that fire you build up inside you has to go somewhere Or it’ll burn you alive. So you throw it into the heavy bag Or into the guy you’re sparring Or into the ground you run on. We’re all fighting something So what about you? What are you fighting that’s so god **** important? No, don’t tell me. Tell that heavy bag. He listens. He listens when your wife doesn’t give a **** He listens when it doesn’t even matter Tell these padded mitts. That one-two punch says more than a twenty-four volume encyclopedia And speaks more concisely than Churchill or Hemmingway or Ghandi ever did. Don’t tell me how it feels. Don’t even try. Let that punching bag know. Because you know he’s listening. And he doesn’t have anything else more important to do.
0
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
Fighting
From her lessons in independence we learnt that everyone leaves, Abandonment as sure a fact of life                                                                                                             as death. We learnt that love was transactional, A currency, A receipted tit-for-tat tete-a-tete. At the altar we were shown lies, In the white dress a million yes’s but the question was never till death. I could walk through darkness without worry, I’d never been shown the danger, Been encouraged to see an enemy in calories but not strangers. We learnt to lie to avoid bruises, Wooden spoons used for more than stirring soup, The salt burning streaks down our faces when the *** boiled over the stove top. Truths ignored and lies inelegant We learnt to wield fists with tongues   Sparring for our lives. Cautiously awaiting the whistle pop truth drop wished unsaid upon impact.
0
Aug 5, 2022
Aug 5, 2022 at 3:01 PM UTC
Lessons
We're dancing on a knife's edge, you and I. You know it - I can see the sparkle in your eye. But do we care? I suppose there's somewhere deep down in where mind sits at its desk and all the glaring danger signs flash red. But on the surface, there's a bit of gold in knowing where we stand for now, and being free to dance the line with comfort in your friendship yet excited all the same. We know where we stand: it's not together, so we're free to tap the dance floor lightly and smile into the night, because our words are sparring in - well, let's say they might have crossed the line. But just our words. We two? We're standing side by side (this side of the line) and laughing at them, pointing out the silliness yet somehow still content to stay and watch them anyway for lingered moments that speak more deeply than the words themselves could ever do.
0
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC
dancing
My sister was born with a special gift she could weave could weave so beautifully almost all the kings wives & daughters wanted her stock like this she became very famous She soon got a big head let arrogance posses her mind she mocked the king sparring no mercy One of the king's wives was angry challenge her to a weaving contest the wife lost my sister mocked her She was turned into a spider the wife was never kinder
0
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
Arrogance
The love of my father was boxing seeing my father slicing The wind with his bare hands Shadow boxing by his lonesome Like if he was fighting the wind The wind was his sparring partner the sounds of his fists cutting through the air I saw the violence and art my dear father moves slower After many decades his punches have lost its sound and his movement has lost rhythm of time the wind has beaten him over the years it has taken my father all he’s had to fight His last fight   Even the wind has taken the last wind out of him
0
Jan 11, 2024
Jan 11, 2024 at 2:37 AM UTC
I’ll fight the big fight
It's like sparring with a lumberjack a tell tale sign you're lost A party trick , a baseball bat and loving what you've got a sparrow rests- an open chest a gunshot wound for hire tempted to forget that love will force you through the fire thirty nine and feeling fine and hating what you have kisses in the moonlight and ignoring how it stabs open eyes of baby blue have been lying all this time dreaming dreams sustained by you it still feels like a crime. Headlights hollow open vast and scream a shallow tune baby birds they fly too fast and are taken by the moon. Pacing blankets made of smiles and fairies in her hair name tags and red ceiling tiles dying, trying not to stare. She's beautiful as sunshine and sweet as summer heat and standing by the roadside she sells her rotten meat. There's plenty love in all the world for sirens of her kind and your body's steady pull of heat tempts her to leave us all behind we're hanging from a telephone pole at the end of steady stream and seeing glass is on the floor cutting up our dreams This plane is falling into bits for the rich ones to enjoy i wonder when they'll figure out that earth is not a toy. porky's in the dining hall playing Rhapsody and Blue on a washboard and a bathroom stall I'm entering on cue. You can scream and yell and call me names Curse words aren't that bad My life is one big mess of loud you're not supposed to make me mad.
0
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 9:23 AM UTC
Playful Banter
Aww, how sweet, You always knew What to do To make me feel like Garbage stew, To make me eat The poison glue you spew, To make me drag My ragged feet Wherever your Poisoned heart Leads you to. With mine on my sleeve I keep in tow And leak from head to toe, From every swollen pore The saline flows and Drips down in Rivulets to sow Sterile seeds And offset The burning scent Of cigarettes In the hair that keeps Whipping my face With the pace Of expanding internet. Oh well, I'm all set With the ******** I'm fine with your Sense of entitlement, I'll get by Without your "Enlightenment," Call it what you want, It's still just Getting bent Getting ****** Getting exactly what you love, And I bet you'll recount To me how it went, With no regard for What it meant to me, But my energy is spent So get to gettin', Take every cent From my memory bank, I'll burn every brain cell That might have lent You the time of day With forty two Glasses Of chardonnay And a few pressed pills I bought from Kid A, Don't worry, just chill, That's not the way Out things ever play, More likely I'd wake up to see your face Open its mouth And ******* say Some ****** up **** To ruin my day, But hey, That's the cycle I perpetuate, Cuz Michael Loves a sparring mate I guess, not sure, doesn't Really make much sense, Especially since A running mate Is closer to the figure 8 On it's side that I desire, Instead I get a cut rate Liar who equates Love with ****** desire, He might make you scream, But I'll set you on fire. Either way it seems You just like to perspire, Just don't forget that I Can make you expire With a call down The telephone wire To my Styrofoam supplier, Nah jk, just being a clown, Just trying to acquire Enough sounds and frowns That I can use for Funeral pyres For me and all these new hires, Unknown girls I can use To forget her, The higher the better.
0
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
--Carol Gerber--
Aww, how sweet, You always knew What to do To make me feel like Garbage stew, To make me eat The poison glue you spew, To make me drag My ragged feet Wherever your Poisoned heart Leads you to. With mine on my sleeve I keep in tow And leak from head to toe, From every swollen pore The saline flows and Drips down in Rivulets to sow Sterile seeds And offset The burning scent Of cigarettes In the hair that keeps Whipping my face With the pace Of expanding internet. Oh well, I'm all set With the ******** I'm fine with your Sense of entitlement, I'll get by Without your "Enlightenment," Call it what you want, It's still just Getting bent Getting ****** Getting exactly what you love, And I bet you'll recount To me how it went, With no regard for What it meant to me, But my energy is spent So get to gettin', Take every cent From my memory bank, I'll burn every brain cell That might have lent You the time of day With forty two Glasses Of chardonnay And a few pressed pills I bought from Kid A, Don't worry, just chill, That's not the way Out things ever play, More likely I'd wake up to see your face Open its mouth And ******* say Some ****** up **** To ruin my day, But hey, That's the cycle I perpetuate, Cuz Michael Loves a sparring mate I guess, not sure, doesn't Really make much sense, Especially since A running mate Is closer to the figure 8 On it's side that I desire, Instead I get a cut rate Liar who equates Love with ****** desire, He might make you scream, But I'll set you on fire. Either way it seems You just like to perspire, Just don't forget that I Can make you expire With a call down The telephone wire To my Styrofoam supplier, Nah jk, just being a clown, Just trying to acquire Enough sounds and frowns That I can use for Funeral pyres For me and all these new hires, Unknown girls I can use To forget her, The higher the better.
Continue reading...
98
In the red corner - me in the blue corner - life this isn't a fair fight there was no sparring or training I had to come out swinging right from the bell absorbing every jab that life throws just waiting for the knockout punch still dancing and going toe to toe throwing haymakers left and right I try to keep my guard up hoping somehow to win by decision side-stepping punches ducking and weaving uppercut uppercut uppercut I dropped my guard, and there goes my mouthpiece ding! saved by the bell I still have a few rounds to go...
0
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
10 rounds with the champ
Answer me by Nat Lipstadt Why are the children if not hurting themselves, so busy hurting others? I know hurt in ways you cannot fathom, And I rise up daily with a but a single quest: Banish the hurt, expel the hurters, And practice the one true faith: Kindness and Grace. Sometimes the madness I read, too much, too much, And I walk away and store my poems in another place. But I am reminded, There is no such thing as too kind, So I wander back, Chagrined and Chastened, Hoping one among you Will help to raise up Me. The Rebuttal Ask me now to fight your war and I shall vanquish legions vast Call that I, a mountain scale and I shall conquer summit fast. Command me firmly, forth to go and I shall strive as best I can But call me to administrate and I will call you fool, be ****** Thus some have talent to be red and some attend to hues of green But few have skills of rainbow shade, few, at least, that I have seen. Some wear fear upon their smile others writhe with minds that burn, They wallow deep in misery, whilst others stop to see and learn. Some are black and some are white, for most the favoured shade is grey.... Roar ye might for judgement's fall, but futile friend... as death's delay.
0
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
Sparring with an Aged Adversary
I wish I had known you when you were alive, when your heart was still beating and your skin was flush. I wish I had known your will to survive when your thoughts weren't in such a rush. I wish I had met you back when we were young, before all these trials of life... I wish we had cried all our tears to the ground and evicted the whole of our strife. Never, no never, did I ever think that I'd bury a friend like you. But clever, so clever, those poisonous barbs that split both our hearts in two. I loved you so deeply, though you were so cold I was fooled by the warmth of a lie. Naked and blinded I gave you the knife and lifted my eyes to the sky. Now I've stumbled through darkness and stretched for a hand, wishing sometimes I could die. While loneliness dances across my heart, suppressing my urge to cry. I wish I had known you when you were alive, when your heart was still beating and your skin was flush. I wish I had known that I'd lose such a friend in a sparring that I couldn't crush. I wish I had met you back when we were young, before all these trials of life... I wish we had cried all our tears to the ground and evicted the whole of our strife. Never. No never. Did I ever think that I'd bury a friend like you..... But clever, so clever, those poisonous barbs that split both our hearts in two.
0
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Obituary
From my Dark Watcher Series; A heart carries a shield, which to hold at bay, the demons of the night, that want to play. Warding off the tears, that joins the game, with feelings of hate, giving birth to shame. Swords drawn, the duel begins once more, sheathes of angry words, slamming doors. Ruthless sparring that cuts to the soul, their points dipped in poison, take their toll. Lethal cuts, rivers of tears that run red, through gouged cliffs of unknown dread. Spiteful jousting of controlling speeds, that ****** deep, to finish the fateful deed. Kathleen Kohl/Levinski
0
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
A Shielded Heart
We lower our masks over our faces, Put on our armor, and get into our places. You start with a playful jab But it ****** more than you know. I raise my weapon in defense, You take a couple of steps back. I think the match is done Until you come swinging Because you need to know that you've won. If only you could take your mask off when we're not sparring; Maybe then we wouldn't need to fight.
0
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 1:55 PM UTC
Mask On
On this chilly night, so do not get a fright, but rug up and come into the light, at Mordialloc Training, Tonight. We will do the warm-up, as is right do some push ups for our might and after this have a bite, of some new chocolates, Tonight. After this you will be ready outright, with some cardie-vascular workout, quite, and we will keep the schedule tight, and do some partner-work too, Tonight. So come and warm yourself by active rite, maybe with a bit of sparring, no not fight, and we will make it a delight, alright, alright, when you come to Kung Fu training Tonight, Tonight.
0
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
Kung Fu Training
It starts with a bang A single shot Followed by a Chorus Of clacking Clicking And whirring As though The bullet Tore a hole In the sky And now all the air Is rushing out ******* us With it A spectacle To witness Such great pitch And movement A steady buzz Buzzing rolling Cacophony Fueled by Ambition aggression And panic Elbows out Jarring Sparring Until we settle Into our rhythm Carbon and metal And organic Mass Undulating along Whoosh Wooshing Flying on the ground Escape velocity Hurtling along Pushing A wall of air The winds of Our arrival Surrounding us An envelope Sealing This new singularity From the rest of The universe Until it collapses On itself And vanishes Until The next Event Horizon
0
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
racing
In their discombobulated lives no matter what occurs Mrs Um and Mr Er never quite concur Continually at loggerheads Sparring is their game Life like this is normal now Really it's a shame Mrs Um for her hols wants to fly to Spain Mr Er would prefer Turkey on the train Mrs Um would like a dog, what he says to that Is well now let me see, er, I think we need a cat Where to put the cross this time I don't know do you Mrs Um votes red Mr Er votes blue So they end up doing nothing As on nothing they agree How they ever got together Certainly beats me
0
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
Mrs Um and Mr Er
Graceful predator perched on the precipice of woe Your satin crown, ebony feathers cannot camouflage mision of misery you'll sow Your balmy wings caress as dark shadows grow You sharpen your talons lethal grasp your helpless prey to show But only quicken the hearts of foragers nestled below Shrill call does not alarm wary prey; only emboldened, novel defenses bestow Slower prey their extended units disband; bountiful feast now in escrow Stealthy ears pick up the feigned, stressful calls of dispossessed lying low The harried remnant recedes into veiled canopy with their cargo Confident dive bomber, you plunge into the shielded canopy mayhem to strew Only to have pleated wings torn by thistle, thorn guarding the undertow Injured, but deadly weapons your armada still doth tow With sharp beak you shred the stragglers who venture into twilight's afterglow With bristling talons you scratch and claw causing stiffened backs to bow But their desire to live trumps marauding havoc laid in stow Shorn of limb but not of hope, scurrying from nest to nest to and fro Storm clouds gather over Dover cliffs; thunderous chorus from nest doth bellow On the sparring range, a docile, prevailing wind no longer doth blow Wearied from long chase, depleted eagle from bleeding strand doth go
0
Aug 10, 2011
Aug 10, 2011 at 10:14 AM UTC
Vietnam: The Eagle Has Landed
I mit livs sommer er jeg Midnatsdans på køkkengulvet med fars dyre hvidvin. Anonyme beskeder til smukke ansigter. Stress med aflevering; mandag, tirsdag, onsdag, torsdag, fredag. Smuglede smil til usunde sataner med lidt for rodet hår og hoved. Sparring på cigaretter. Færdigbag da alt andet er for ekstravagant. Iskold øl på brandvarm asfalt, og brandvarme blik til iskolde drenge. Meterlange køer, men hver en krone værd. Togkonsulent med en gave til dig på 750 kr. , og derefter en halv time for sent på arbejdet. Uventede komplimenter fra uventede mennesker, og uventede oplevelser på uventede tider. I mit livs vinter lever jeg ånder lidt for ivrigt efter pauser. Neglelak som krakelerer i kanterne efter blot en dag. Dage uden at se solen selvom solen er evigt eksisterende på himlen. Køber ikke koncertbilletten, fordi muligheden jo nok opstår en anden gang. Støv som har permanent bopæl i hjørnet, og ridsen tværs over computeren som er kommet for at blive. Lampen uden pæren og pæren med blåt skær. Mangel på sokker. Sætninger man fortryder, ligesåvel som sætninger man ønsker man havde indført. Mangel på søvn, tid og mad i køleskabet. Kendskab til hemmeligheder, som er hemmeligt at man har kendskab til. Og alt-alt-alt for mange valg at træffe og truffe.
0
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
I mit livs sommer
Apprehension crawls under the skin, Causing fright in the human mind. The abnormal anxiety dominates our thinking, Afraid to preform activities of enjoyment. Leading to a life that can drive isolation, Hiding under that protected quilt. Phobias are tensions that can be addressed, Fighting a war against nervousness. Start by conquering the dread head on, Battling the horror at its source. The fear response will peak when sparring worries, But in the end, you can beat the fearful reaction.
0
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Conquering Phobias
The walls are circling now, Closing in around me, And the demons push forward, Sparring my sides. I am surrounded. Oh dove, This is not your place. Your freedom taunts me. Why do you choose to witness such torture? Exorcist, You cast the leathered bats from me. You, who watches me writhe Utters spells and prayers, And pulls me from my depths. Oh dove, I shall gasp water when you flee.
0
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC
Dove
a dust bathing sparrow,teased me thus: look at elephants and us, mud and dust are better than polluted water.
0
Dec 28, 2011
Dec 28, 2011 at 10:43 AM UTC
sparring with a sparrow on bathing