Casting a line or two in hope of a poem.
So many blackberriesso few breakfastsso soon the cold.
We hardly get any wild berries here :(Have to travel quite a way to find any I'd trust to eat.Nice short :)
... and onto hibernating mode. ;)Hullo, Steve. Hope you're doing well. Cheers!
Isn'tt going to be 31 on Tuesday? ;)
thanks inc. The best ones are along the roadside and thankfully the Council does not seem to spary as they used to. And if its about 'travel quite a way', come visit us one year ... and bring your tupperware! :-)souless -- do I gather correctly that you have a penchant for hibernation? Seems that mode is healthy for lots of things.Yes Radgast, and today, Wednesday promises to be even hotter. Although I did not go there, the thought in the back of my mind with this poem was my 'stage in life', maybe 'late summer'. The blackberries might be poems and paintings ... and people I dearly love.
Awwww! Love the blackberry metaphor. Quite a melancholy poem. I feel sad now for lack of time with my 'blackberries'!
Steve, great lines here. Your whole blog is very cool. I'll be back!
and I wait what spring will do to ur appetiteAlok
missmellifluous, we are stewards possessing nothing I think you will agree. We know the hazards of clinging to the moment we love. (To pray "your Kingdom come" is to covet a liberating perspective, even for the love of blackberries.)Billy, thank you. Alas my poem generator has slowed but that may be just 'seasonal'.Ah alok, I have at last discovered the sublime joys of a kitchen garden. Let's see what might Spring bring? ...hummm, ask me again closer to the season. And if you are ever in Oz drop for ...well, maybe some rubarb pie.
Growing up is partly a process of forsaking some things for others which are different, but better.Wishing to hang on to the simpler pleasures is partly due to a lack of imagination. Heaven, of course, has the most pleasures of all, and ones that are hardest to imagine.And it *is* hard to imagine anything better than blackberries ;)
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