mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: I feel a headache coming on
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2015/07/i-feel-headache-coming-on.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Tuesday, July 14, 2015. I feel a headache coming on. I feel a headache coming on,. And I miss feeling the heat of my body. I open my heart to a greater purpose. I need animals to be happy,.
mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: August 2015
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2015_08_01_archive.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Friday, August 28, 2015. Before the game,. The real men of our. High School football team. Would get ready to. Smash heads and break noses. By shaving our legs. And putting on panty hoses. Reflect...
mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: January 2015
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2015_01_01_archive.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Tuesday, January 13, 2015. I am Jonah: the Lord told me to preach to Nineveh. Such a wicked place, Nineveh will never listen,. I must have misunderstood. I think the Lord told. I am glad I listed.
mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: July 2015
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2015_07_01_archive.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Saturday, July 25, 2015. Thoughts on hearing of the death of a high school friend. With whom I went on a couple of dates with.). When a friend of 101 passes away. It is hard enough to bear.
mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: Spring
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2015/08/spring.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Friday, August 7, 2015. Mostly Fun for a Girl and a Boy. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Thoughts of a Liberal Mormon. I was There at the Temple. 107 E Boynton Rd. The house is still warm.
mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: October 2014
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2014_10_01_archive.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Thursday, October 9, 2014. Arms and Legs Flailing. Arms and Legs Flailing. Arms and legs flailing. Head turning side to side. With my eyes and my. Jaws clinched shut;. It took both of my parents.
mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: July 2014
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Thursday, July 3, 2014. Sorrow is a young boy. Who won’t pet a dog. Or walk into a pet store. Because he has lost a trusted friend. Sorrow is a young girl. Who leaves the room. Sorrow is the thump.
mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com
Mountain Man Poetry: The house is still warm
http://mountainmanpoetry.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-house-is-still-warm.html
This is the poetry of H.T. Lawrence . I am called a Mountain Man Poet. Not because I write about being a Mountain Man, but when one of my friends found out that I wrote poetry he said, “The Mountain Man writes poetry too.”. I will try to post one poem a day or it may be even longer in-between. I hope you enjoy. Wednesday, August 5, 2015. The house is still warm. The house is still warm. Black dog panting in my face. Sleep will not be found. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Thoughts of a Liberal Mormon.
poetrycircle-magdalena.blogspot.com
Poetry Circle: Wild, by Carol Peters
http://poetrycircle-magdalena.blogspot.com/2013/05/wild-by-carol-peters.html
Tuesday, May 7, 2013. Wild, by Carol Peters. The screaming hairy armadillo. Digs the hole I fill daily. Next to the garden wall. Wild, the young hare. Wild fountains of sand. Wild, the giant snail oozes. Wild, the parrot flocks. Wild foxes, bald with mange. One by one, dead. For the black vultures feeding. Wild, the turquoise-spotted toad. In the sprinkler box. Wild, the whistling heron. Wild slaty-breasted wood rail. Deep in the pond lilies. Wild, the vines. Scraped and boiled for jam. In Response To You.
poetrycircle-magdalena.blogspot.com
Poetry Circle: My Stuffed Best Friend by Anna Kondratyeva
http://poetrycircle-magdalena.blogspot.com/2013/11/my-stuffed-best-friend-by-anna.html
Friday, November 8, 2013. My Stuffed Best Friend by Anna Kondratyeva. My Stuffed Best Friend. The patchwork of mustard plants rippled. Beguiling in the first light of dawn. And in the peace the rang out clear. A splash, and he was gone. I felt the flowers clench in fright. I took a step, and then another. Migrating towards the place. Where his remains lay untarnished. Draped in mid morning lace. My movements were robotc as. My cheeks burned fiery red. For no matter how I regretted. Had I really changed?
