Open Poetry #4 |
My Blackboard |
broker6 Member
since 1999-11-07
Posts 132Bellevue, NE, Sarpy |
MY BLACKBOARD by ©Richard J. Budig I weary of this weather February flakes streak by my window Little bullets of ice-wrapped snow Scritchy chalk marks on my blackboard Writing out all my secret winters Exposing the frozen parts of my soul Reminding me of flames no longer bright Of dreams dead from inner blight Of songs that no longer have words Of little hands reaching out Of large hands stuffed in pockets While the snows of many winters Rattle the window of my little room |
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© Copyright 1999 broker6 - All Rights Reserved | |||
Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Broker ... chills ran down my spine at the squeak of the chalk down the blackboard. Very well done. I'll stay after class and help you clean the blackboard ... how about a new eraser and a box of colored chalk? ------------------ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ noles1@totcon.com |
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hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
Very Nice |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Very well done, Richard. ------------------ Denise |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
I'm sorry I missed this earlier and glad I found it now. I like the way you say so much in a few words. |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Some people write words and some write poetry. You are definitely the latter, broker. |
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