So slow the years wandered by When life first placed my toes in… But now, I believe, the clock run… For each year is gone before I th… JE Falcon
Times were those that I wiggled m… in the togetherness sands of a you… and I made my pitch that made me t… trying to form a more perfect rhym… But there was a riddle, deep in th…
Find pardons for them in dim lit h… In the marbled walkways of polishe… Find pardon for them, but not for… That sit in cages, all alone. Gluttony comes by way of want
In the harbor’s fog the dragon sle… As if drifting through a twilight… And it dreams so deep of another p… To pass the time of endless days. Yet, a kindled fire in an unknown…
We are ripples On a never ending lakes, Like those crystals Too finely made, that breaks. We are mortal
Fiddle A. Dee, the hopping flea Hopped right onto the dog. The dog scratched here, The dog scratched there, Then the flea hopped on a Hog.
Night’s shadow descends Upon my window’s curtain As sleep consumes me. ***JEF The Ships of State sail Among many types of storms
Crystal Sails on “The Golden Sch… Her rigging laced with silver thre… This ghost ship sails, (All hands… By the ghastly crew, now firmly de… Foggy harbors and misty coves
I went to the Doctor for a check-… And I mentioned my ear was bother… The Doctor prescribed ear-drops,… The next morning my throat was as… I thought Streptococcus had come…
It was just past midnight When I heard a bell, It wasn’t a big one, It was small, I could tell. Ting-Ting, Ting-ting,
Like waves of the sea, The grain fields moved, Grasping the ambulant eye. In this place of the beaver, The lumberjack and weaver;
What the mind conceives From books and dreams And visions conjured deep in cloud Shall never fetch the love of fait… 'though love shall speak of faith…
He stands on the edge of windy cli… Where images and shadows seldom bl… He closed his eyes to sees beyond; Beyond the whispers and the wind. Then he stretched himself, as if t…
So slow the clouds pass us by Wandering leisurely across the sky Such illustrious billows Like those satin pillows Upon which— lovers lie.
“The Sleeper” has docked Near the schooner, “Lanore,” As “The Raven” steams north Past the fog laden shore. “The Bells” on the buoys
