december was long.
the fog blinded everyone when the head-man shouted for help.
january is not mine.
the sun shines hard and hot all day long.
february in the beginning is full of promises.
the rest of it is a war against boredom.
march only shifts positions to shadow venus.
pluto no more, not to mind neptune and uranus.
april would be a new thing again.
a flower is all i can make, call me god.
may the uncertain, make hay.
get a pen and a thousand new words for the world.
june, bring in the clowns and dancing monkeys.
that is only half of what one should expect.
july, should be the time for a breath.
time to see eye to i and say 'it's not me'.
august gathered dust.
stacked upon newspapers, time to let it be.
september will rust.
iron men, steel willed walk the streets of the forbidden city.
october goes so fast.
before one knows, the present is past.
november, thank you very much.
you can keep it for yourself, in bards we trust.
december is long.
read - read - read; white and red.
The Road to Little Dribbling … a review
3 weeks ago