Between beneath behind the cracks
darkness climbs that place where memories hide
muted and bound.
You wonder if light is God’s breath,
filtering its way through cracks
where writhing piles of snakes seek warmth.
Or is that just hope listening to light?
Your musty memory molts
leaving a trail of grey papery pods
unbound and fluttering.
bw
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poetry by nicolas ryan brown.
Writing for Wholeness
Waiting on Words
A Feminist Literary Collective (& outlaw poets swearing)
"What a strange bundle of consistent inconsistencies we all are." Mary Ronan
The weather and the light are just different out here...and sometimes you have to find the words for things.
My poetry is my religion.
Sunshine on Razor Wire: perspectives from "inside"
Echoes of Life, Love and Laughter
Be inspired...Be creative...Be peace...Be
a weekly flash fiction prompt inspired by google maps
Observations from the loose nut behind the wheel.
spiritual enlightenment and self improvement
In real life.....
Zen Priest
Montana's Politics Drives One to Drink.
Guidelines for developing a happier life
I love light listening to hope.
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