As we read this we think of our darkness and how it hungers always for more. We constantly watched for the slightest weakness, even inattention is a weakness. But to have it’s icy call within our darkness and acceptance, deeelish

Hoi hoi Chère C.,
Love the write.
And love the artwork too.
Kind regards, Gus

This reads more like a short story then a poem. I love it. The darkness and moodiness crawls into my skin. As I read, I love the atmosphere you created with your words and with the image. Marvelous Brenda. xo

Father, I confess to ink the silence, haunting the moonless nights. Well done, Brenda.

Powerfully penned, Brenda. Amazing write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

I was way too chicken to get on top of any roof. lol
But I would lay on a trampoline at night which was so cool.
Mostly because it felt like I was floating while gazing at the sky. Night or day. Didn’t matter.
A nice escape – good for adults and kids.
We all need them to stop thinking about reality sometimes.

Oh, I understand. Sometimes a kid’s just gotta do what a kid’s gonna do. And it’s always worth it — especially when you look back at it from the distant now, and realize how much more we had then. I have to think I knew it then, or I wouldn’t have done it. The only way it could last was in my memory.

Live in a building where they have locked the roof. But I would gaze out the window and dream. Lived on the top floor.

hello dearest poet I feel the plight of humanity in and on my own body…we are not all so blind and unfeeling… great write ❤️

That’s very interesting — and scary. It must be very difficult to live this way. I wish you peace and thank you for sharing.

You write the truth.
Are we as a species , evolving or devolving.
Keep up the good work as you say lots with very few words.🙏

Thank you, M. It’s funny, but I think of that time often, up on that roof. I can still feel the scratchiness of those asphalt shingles and smell the honeysuckle wafting up from our back yard. Wondrous times, wondrous nights.

Wow! From the roof, gazing at stars and beauty, to gazing at minds and blackness. I love it. I am still gathering material to my “roof” poem. I enjoyed reading your roof poem. Well done, FD “)

Thank you for allowing my ink to splatter, Brenda. I don’t know why we don’t team-up more often. My dirge is available even in the throes of my tuna casserole.

This is good. The flow is nicely done. Nice job to both of you.