bearing now this
loneliness 10,000 days
an old man in love

I’m not Blind! Or Am I?

I am not colour blind
But blind,
And my hearts’
Not red,
I’m told it’s white
Red hot
That's how I live
So ever after happily

"sweet dreams" she purrs
I roll over and tremble
thoughts of losing her

A WINTER'S TALE by Ian Thomson

Winter arrived in the Montana highlands like a grizzly rampaging through a tent. Jack Walker had estimated another three weeks of panning for gold in the small, richly laden stream before he would be forced down, through the pass to the valley town but the winter of 1874 had other ideas. That first storm closed the pass and Jack knew he was isolated for the next two months. A check on his provisions showed a shortfall of two weeks that would be hard to overcome, as the local deer had already descended to the valley floor.

even in unveiled sadness
her beauty incites tears
I cry twice

deep forest
creatures skedaddling
men walk like thunder

Can any one who has posted an entry for the Newsletter contest on Stream, please email it to me so that it can be judged. [email protected]

The deadline is Mon 6th December.

Thank you

and good luck

Lou

clean fresh Buddah minds
stainless saffron robes
my laundro-mat stinks

little runing feet
laugh, a'tangle in coat and hat
the bus always waits

trees rustle, a rush
of little paws and clamor
a picnic basket