sloppy soapy softballs

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  • Confusion

    sloppy soapy softballs

     searchig inside only to be found on the out
     confused in twilight bareing a not so youthful snout,
    certainty and stability left far behind in still water waiting
     place and time no longer seperating,
    caught up in thoughts often unkept
     foolish to think goodness is happening in a blink of an eye
    searching ...

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    strangefellow’s Poems (7)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    move up move on 0 10/26/2009
    The East 0 10/21/2009
    sloppy soapy softballs 0 08/08/2009
    the lessons of iktomi 0 07/13/2009
    hope unto the 1 07/11/2009
    this land of ours 1 07/06/2009
    the sound of or 1 07/04/2009
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