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    The Soft Clatter of Love and Old Tin Spoons at Midnight: The Unsaid Poetry of Home

    The Soft Clatter of Loveand Old Tin Spoons at Midnight:The Unsaid Poetry of Home      I love Central Park in the Fall. The city feels fresher and cleaner for some reason. As I walked past the Zoo, I heard a...

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      • Thank you so much Thomas. This is a story I wrote years ago but fine tuned recently. Very glad you enjoyed it, my friend.

        John

    • I enjoy the way you put your stories together. The way you summed it up ” the soft clatter of love and old tin spoons at midnight which was the unsaid poetry of home.” put a smile on my face

      • Thank you so much Fia for reading this and your comment. Indeed, I like the way that last line summed it up too. Very glad you enjoyed. Most grateful for your read. And love that you enjoy the way my stories are put together and that the last line made you smile.

        John

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    Cruel Amnesia

    Lost moments these gaps in time Surrounded by such strange faces Unable to reason can’t find a rhyme Empty thoughts in random places   Can’t recall when the mask slipped Sometimes minutes feel like years Somehow the scale must of tipped Got this constant ringing in my...

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    • Amnesia, would be a lonely thing for a poet of the forgotten. This was exquisite, Damian.

    • Hello dearest Damian great write I feel this I often wonder if forgetting is a blessing or a curse ❤️

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Brenda. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Maybe a little of both depending on what’s forgotten. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Tremendous work, my friend.

    • Damian, this is strong tonic. I could feel this in my bones as I read. This i the stuff of poetry that feels like strong whiskey on the tongue. Sad but great writing.

      John

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, John. So glad you connected with the write my friend. It is sad indeed. Thank you for your continued support. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • It is cruel when the mind slips and cannot grasp what you have lost. Food for thought.

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Fia. So glad you connected with the write my friend. It is food for thought, these are the little things I think about late at night. lol. Appreciate you, cuz.

        Damian

    • Older age? I know all too well the fading of a few things within myself!
      Yet you haven’t lost your literary touch! You are blessed with talent, that hasn’t ebbed. Thankfully we write down our material, no need to remember them from scratch! LOL.
      You still can kick some ass with a pen, Damian. Wield it high!

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Mark. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Getting old isn’t without the fear of losing one’s self along the way. I’m just trying to hang in there. You’re much too kind, Dear Sir. But thank you for your continued support brother. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Exquisite piece Damian. Well written my friend.

    • exceptional read! full of concise, vividly profound imagery…
      a sense of melancholic unrest. ~ c

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, C. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • As you so often do, you stirred levels here again. I read this from the personal perspective of memories slipping. A sense of self lost in blips of time. I also see this as the world arena and how people have lost their sense humanity, their compassion, their community. Like the whole damn world has global amnesia. And I read it as literal amnesia from losing time in the form of blanks in memory from drink or drugs. Many layers, my friend

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Willow. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Well you know me, I love when there are multiple meanings and endless possibilities. lol. Sometime’s I think it’s probably little pieces of all those things rolled into one. I follow where my muse leads me. Appreciate you.

        Damian

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  • Litany of False Worship

    (To be recited in twilight, before extinguished candles and broken mirrors.)   I kneel before the god who never asked. I light a candle that was never wax. I speak the name that was never given. I offer truth wrapped in illusion.   You wear robes...

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