8/22/06

It isn’t really a cultural thing
more a matter of me not making a study of
codes of
behavior

And perhaps I ought to
learn some well defined
sharp as the side of a knife bordered
list of rules

The pages stare at me
I’ve lost the ability to see
although oh what I heard
and the dreams that came to me then

A gown of autumn
still supple russet leather leaves
for I cannot bear the garb
others call fine

second stanza, oh baby how that struck me!

~Dreamer

August 22, 2006

What dreams are ours ~c, if we let them be! Lovely, a touch sad maybe, again, but, beautiful. Please whitter…. always. Much love & Hugs Bren.

writetrack

August 22, 2006

*random noter* -Great read:-)

Robin W

August 22, 2006

This. is. Brilliant 🙂

The slogan says, “Don’t play with fire, play with Pilgrim Poet” Yeah 😀 😀 😀 XOX Your poem has a punch to it. Hope you’re ok. I’ve got msn on … and will brb to it 😉 Come in if you have time. HUgs,

ryn: That’s okay. It’s strange hearing the voice of another diarist. We have a narrative voice here but our real voices can throw the other person out of kilter. You sound NYC which is nice. So don’t worry. I wasn’t in the least put out. And I’m sorry I was carried away writing to miss the call time. Magical Dreams & Warmest Hugs

The Rickster

August 22, 2006

Rules? You don’t need no stinkin’ rules. 🙂

~Just a Dreamer~

August 23, 2006

i’m gilbert grape too *winks* go figure *laughs & blows ya a kiss*

gilraent

August 23, 2006

c(_)