

Furtive GlancesFurtive GlancesFurtive Glances
By E. Thomson
Strange how I walk down these streets No one speaks No one knows me Yet, I am just me I am all that I know I am all that I feel Looking out from these windows that are my eyes I can see a narrow vision of a wider world Every event is capsulated in an inch of space How can I decide in this world of chance After the choice things seemed destined Did I get to decide in this world of fated chaos The shops and the pubs and the terraced houses Are like a stone palisade The light, ongoing rain keeps reminding me
...i wish her well
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"Victory is ours but the casualties that must be paid is the price that hurts" - Major Dick Winters
Thanks for the
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.... And in some sense fractals are the geometry of the non perfect
Ingvar
[link]
But then again I am out of step with the world so probably totally wrong. Nah!
I'm right, they're wrong! Heh heh! I think that when I write a poem it must eventually belong to the reader and stir a memory, or passion or 'yes, that's right, that's it' in the beloved reader!
Forsake me if I am vague or too internal!
Blessed Be!
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please read my poetry for entertainment
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please read my poetry for entertainment
appealing because you don't have to deal with people anymore. But I digress. So if anyone views this stuff, good for you!
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please read my poetry for entertainment
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please read my poetry for entertainment
but will put on more poetry soon!
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please read my poetry for entertainment
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please read my poetry for entertainment
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