As silver paint drips from my stressed paint brush

"I stand back to admire a collection of stormy clouds

Each pother is decorated with a neat shiny edge

A border that tells me, even dark days contain some light"

This could be a poem all by itself. I ADORE the word 'pother' -

Posted: Dec 3, 2007

I remember us trying to open a bottle of red wine with a sink..As the imprisoned cork was smashed free with the impact half the sink crashed to the floor .
Gotta love those little surprises .
Excellent poem !

Posted: Dec 3, 2007

This surely is a collection of three seperate poems each a gem! The last one I remember well from my younger days - now it's all red wine (Shiraz).

Posted: Dec 3, 2007

I could seek the hot and cold as innocent or guilty.

Posted: Dec 4, 2007