Wednesday, January 28, 2004
" Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who
have minded beyond reason the opinions of others. "
--Virginia Woolf
Quiet this time of night/morning. The house cooling a bit. One of the dogs, Ralph - I think, barking at who knows what. The rest of the family bedded down... I expect Gail, anytime, for one of her many forays out of bed from pain or full bladder. The house cats and dogs also at their sleep. A little more time at the keyboard for me, maybe check Da Boards, perhaps some light reading in a bit. NPR, National Public Radio, playing classical music on my radio at low volume. A light chill motion of air finding its way about me. I've finished my latest poem:
Rope's End
The end unimaginative
lips ripening
more purple than heliotrope
my smile erased
I embrace the end
forgotten
:Bobby Nichols 1-28-2004
A bit of the "poetic noir" for my latest attempt ( at poetry, heh-heh ! ) for "Poetry in Motion "... a daily contest ( see sidebar ). The discipline of trying to write a poem once a day is proving quite alluring... fun actually.
Wood stove still smoking up the house. Time to clean the chimney ? May be interesting in the rain.
Good-bye !!!
C'ya.
... digg.com
