I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
You can and do read That is beautiful, for you Give worlds of words life
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
I am a dusty fossil, dry and old My lectures include no bright, flashing slides When the words of the text are ductile gold
I was invisible and she was seen Snow sweetly sauntering through autumn leaves Playing the voyeur seems somewhat obscene
Technical trouble Can generate frustration But it prolongs thought
Your poverty is not exactly mine Long journeys do not always yield progress Your world looks warm and your smiles define
How frequently do we use metaphor Gustatory, culinary, of taste To describe how that novel in a drawer Made the hours given to it no waste?
Without principles We are easily misled By villains and fools
A toy and a tool Differ from one another Be mindful of that
Too many are owned by their possessions Almost nothing belongs to me alone To my master, I pose no glib questions My will belongs to him; I never groan
Again, the devil took Him up on an exceedingly high mountain, and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. And he said to Him, “All these things I will give You if You will fall down and worship me.” Matthew 4:1-11 (NKJV)
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Fiction
Don’t envy the brain It can recall forgetting Its name for itself
What sort of nation Makes education costly And narcotics free?
