And so…
By Stephen,
And so
The quiter quits quiting finding the kick
Kicked him back to the place he meant to be
So he went, a begrudged child, pouter, and man
Became man, like Yeat’s solitary soul,
Or swan, or perhaps I mix things up still,
Am I? The quiter decides to paint the swans
That drift into the mind like the lovers,
Agatha and Hamilton, who landed
In Mill pond at the head of his river
Each spring. Yes, he remembers, yes he
Does. Like bent ankle ice hockey mockery
By the boys who could spray ice on him
He cannot forget how the words must flow
Like snow must fall, like earth must move
Out of the way of sprouts trying so hard.
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16 Responses to “And so…”
I think you’ve changed your mind about leaving your words behind?
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Yes… a certain person kicked my butt and reminded me that my voice is still needed… and wanted…
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I’m glad you’re back! At one point, I think you were going to focus on essay-writing for a while. Are you still doing that?
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I am writing essays… to an extent. Mostly I am studying for my securities exam so I can make money to feed my writing/reading habits
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Yeah, there is that day job thing, isn’t there? Best wishes for preparing for your securities exam!
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome!
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I think it’s a great decision. All voices for sanity are needed.
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I got a bit of a butt chewing for thinking I should not write anymore… 😬
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Someone did a great thing! 👍👍👍
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🤗🤣🤗😆
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👍👍👍
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From little things big things grow….
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We can hope!
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Thanks Chuck!
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