Arms wrapped so tightly his breath is shallow and short he questions his sorrow and needed to talk his grief was once outspoken the wench he called again to listen to the moment and repeating of his pain and like radio waves floating through the air he remembered that feeling running fingers through... Sign in to see full entry.
tales from the murky splurge:
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About this Blog
Poetry is about expression of thought. Sometimes the best work is the kind of stuff that just leaps up from within our soul. I write a lot about the murky splurge...This defines a place where we are are given the freedom to bare our souls in word but understand it is between the lines where most truth resides, In a world which has an abundance of love for all to share there is a whirlwind stirring. these words come out of a storm, but reader of my blog, please see although we write about many things, we may just mean another...well that is what the villagers said..... have fun.
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