On a mossy hill behind a mock castle
we will read Aristophanes to harems
of nymphs strumming their lyre.
Words transform to birds flitting
hearts of lovers while I contemplate
the perfect angle of your face
breathe in the amber resin of pine trees
that permeate our senses
There in the unruffled pools of your eyes
I will die just a little
artist unknown
online at: https://houseofheartweb.wordpress.com/
I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out... View more posts
