Sunday, February 28, 2010


The days are chewed,

made soft.

The dog has taken them

with sharp, white teeth

and ridden hard

the muscled thoughts,

reduced the dreams

to nought.

And now I sit,

inside the dream,

a broken, swallowed



Blogger Hippo said...

I know I am but a pot calling the kettle black (are we allowed to say that in these Politically Correct times?) but perhaps we should encourage each other to write more.

A lovely poem and just about how I feel right now, all chewed up and spat out. But, I am sure that as always, I will bounce back.

If you go to my blog and follow the link to the Suburban Bushwacker's blog, he has just posted a site that can detirmine which famous author your writing most resembles. I bunged in, one at a time, five of my last posts and got James Joyce, Kurt Vonnegut and Cory Doctorow three times...

3:42 am  
Blogger Roslyn Ross said...

Hi Tom,
I'm not sure when you posted this. I have been a bit slack accessing blogs and comments. Thankyou for the comment. I wrote this poem while we were living in Angola but it reflects 'places I have been' in the past.

11:16 pm  

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