Tag: life
group name: mydirtylaundry
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August 05, 2008 09:44 AM EDT --
g un
Pa! Will you bring a gun for me?
He feels a shiver but smiles all the same.
A gun in a childish dream is not what
it makes him think. Or is it some inner
. . . more
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May 28, 2008 02:51 AM EDT --
P ublished first to 2 groups only. . . . more
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May 08, 2008 02:11 PM EDT --
Sometimes I do these bits and pieces non-articles because I don't really have enough about any one subject matter to constitute a "real" article. Still, I like to express what's going . . . more
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August 07, 2008 09:42 AM EDT --
A ctress
==
The clotheshorse, old and scruffy holds
the array of her dresses. She needs them.
She needs them even more than foods
to satisfy her half . . . more
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May 26, 2008 12:54 PM EDT --
Words of a sea
Words of a sea spoken in close whispers
It is an avid proponent of sky.
I wish I could lift my face to sky, blue.
Instead I decide to watch the death-pain
. . . more
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May 21, 2008 08:34 AM EDT --
I like it blended
The sweat and the market.
Life on the village is stirring.
The beggar and the thief
Half heartedly handing over
Their loots to the leader.
The vendor . . . more
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May 19, 2008 02:31 AM EDT --
The abused (the dust and the future)
The upturned walls of his mind throbs.
Each flash cuts and pastes scene from past.
Small palms grasp bed sheet, new and crisp.
Eyes water too . . . more
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August 08, 2008 08:33 AM EDT --
Boat on a pastel sea
==============================================
A pastel sea of straight waves, of waves that can be
controlled. The tiny boat drawn with four lines dares.
Its proud . . . more
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July 25, 2008 08:21 AM EDT --
Boatman, How far?
Like a distant dream, the boat alight with
its dim lamps quivering by the winds of
mid river, is threading a golden hem by the bank. “How far?”
“How far will you go, boatman?” . . . more
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May 18, 2008 01:28 AM EDT --
House...1
Four walls lift it on their shoulder.
Sounds of rain dropping on it was the music
My childhood likes most.
A kite is dangling from its corner.
Roof looks at its brilliant . . . more
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June 28, 2008 07:58 AM EDT --
Alike flower ( to Shelbia)
Like a flower I born and die in the same day
And, reborn on the morning next.
Present is like the milk bottle, turns up filled on
Every morning . . . more
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August 04, 2008 10:14 AM EDT --
Monday knot
The shadow of a cloud on the
second floor window. With his eyes
shut, he can see a river streaming.
The sounds of ripples rise from
down bellow. . . . more
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June 03, 2008 11:14 AM EDT --
The four musicians in a field
( to Alison and the band)
A note has touched the cloud, just now.
A bird has stopped over thinking
it may find another of its kind.
. . . more
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June 04, 2008 07:52 AM EDT --
Purple sky(in my head)
Purple sky. Leaves have just turned dark
From the golden. Eyes never tire.
This time they come for medicines,
Close the windows of the gray asylum.
. . . more
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June 27, 2008 07:50 AM EDT --
Hope? What is it to her?
She presses the top of her walking stick
as if it is the "hope", personified.
Count the number of the thud of its strokes
on the gravel path . . . more
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June 16, 2008 11:20 AM EDT --
To the quake victims
The tail of the red toy truck can be seen.
If there is any pair of innocent hands
to play with the toy, there is no mind.
Or body.
He holds her quite . . . more
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July 19, 2008 07:30 AM EDT --
Crème and sugar
======================
Crème and sugar are a stringent no-no.
He has been advised not to indulge in
drinks and other things
gone with the golden . . . more
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July 21, 2008 08:45 AM EDT --
Voices of shadows
(to the trench, the troops, the shadows and ofcourse to Sandre)
=
Shadows are so lovely.
He watches them
unfolding stories
on the muddy wall . . . more
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June 06, 2008 02:57 AM EDT --
The tree
The tree that has opted for an escape from spring
Stands forlorn, in the midst of the greens frolicking.
Waiting only for its favorite bird to come
Tugging down small . . . more
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June 10, 2008 07:21 AM EDT --
Home
"Boys. Oh, boys." She tells.
The bouts of cough in between.
The few of her pictures
Resting on the table with
A short leg. Sepia.
A cup of tea long past its
. . . more
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