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semi turgid life..
the tide in and gone
and the moon sleeping
half lidded behind the cold
winter freeze

our city traffic and snow heaps
scraped bare lots in the lost seasons
christmas lights and trundled bundled
passers by exchanging polite
sentry notations

pasta dish on sale
and the television burble
todays sweet soma to
reveille the call of a day
at rest

wind in the trees and snowdrifts
sculpted leaning here and there
in their small abstractions
squirell home a round of sticks
and leaves...these tiny tracks
like ours weaving on our purpose

in and out

im weaving now
groping through the years
come from the heaps and
rises with my pockets of

glasses loose change
pens and identity cards
to prove im real
and online my slender
old phone tapped in to
wireless now
im alive
im posting

all the aches and pains
from the battle of rush
or gentle decline in sudden
flare bursts
the crush of it falling
like a storm
the activity of the seasons
slowing for a moment
under eaves in the open
on the bus hunched against
the glass while the heaters
shuffle the white noise
while the rain thunders on
the rooftops as we make
the wide slow turns

the air conditioning in
fast sunshine glazing
shadows and the spiky
light from hot surface

im am flesh and bone
and mortal and weak
and wrong at times

sancho panchez has
gone home
the dragons are dead

i am whats left
a windmill tilting
in my artifact body
with its wear and tear
a pawnshop jester
waiting for the talent
to pull more strings
and a head full of
history and books
the drill and drama

winter in my age
the fading eye
the crumpled looks
prescription pills
and second hand books

but i can only smile
when the seasons here
the last few miles
and the laughs
with our oldsters
and the fresh vibrant
still above ground
the gauntlet run
of choice and chance

ive had a blast
it was a gas

the tears and fears
and january sure
and clear

just another old wolf
on the run of rounds
pissing on my marks
and still afraid of the

wry is the ways
and the wonderous
of a life spent in flux
and all the lost
dreams gone

i can still
catch a star
hang a hope
and keep wishing

Editing stage: 


hang a sign.."gone fishing"

author comment

Sorry it is late and this piece will jump up and down for more,
if I fail to write enough.
Winter days and all the pictures that adorn your thoughts, people, places and feelings, brought together in a symphony of words that only you can do, thank you this was extraordinary, Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

jump up and jump around...

makes me smile..this is a song...
something from the nineties....
thank you..

author comment

I am truly amazed to see how poetry pours out from you...i could feel that this was written in one go letting your thoughts pour out was a pleasure to fill my glass and savor it...thank you ..cheers..

raj (sublime_ocean)

articulation and book verse was the only great pats on the head
in our lives as youth
i have a good voice and talk non stop
part of the ADD and bi polar and addiction
right brain epilepsy
the gauntlet full of its light and dark travel
how i live here always
describing it all

noting it in little notebooks
scraps and little cartoons
sketchs i tack up here
and at work

an artist true

thank you

author comment

I enjoyed this poem Esker. The images and emotions were strong here. There's so much sadness I see in this, but so much strength at the end of it.

Nice work man :)


No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

each poem is varied as stones on a beach
but each stone comes from significant material
words..vowels. etc..
thank you !

author comment
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