It's a kiss I missed, a kiss I should have caught.But I let it slip, and I let the moment pass.And now all I've got is a memory of a path not takenAnd my mind, to imagine all it could have led to.
I must thank Night for the truths she whispers when she comesI must thank Day for showing me the error in all those thoughtsBut sometimes Night is right,And Day has only wrong to sayFor Night, when alone, is dreams, is freedom, unshackled thought,While Day is surrounded, crowded by other minds--ideas lashing in the air.
(First voice)Tonight I take the leapI speak the words that creepI touch the withered handAnd say: "have me again, old friend"(Second voice)If you go away as I know you mustThere'll be nothing left in the world but dustand the hallowed wind to play silence's tune On leaves of branches, beneath a dead moonShould you choose…
I lifted my head and looked upwards. Clouds of all shapes and sizes were congregating; showing entryways for nuances of light-grey and dark-grey and grey-grey all over the sky. And soon, towards me, a mizzling came tumbling down. And I let it. Droplets tinkled on my face in explosions of fertility, and the sound of…
Short poem on the pain of loss
An exercise on writing long sentences of narrative.
Short note on pleonasm, and easy exercise to check understanding.