what a frenzy mixed and stirred within this bowl we find a bird flapping yellow wings to fly but stays behind and starts to cry shoo shoo get out this mixing pot you do not belong here in this stock the fire is hot and i am shaking the cloth the wind is blowing and causing a froth let me lift you on... 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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