fight (Remove filter)
Grief
Like traveling through quicksand
Slow and dirty
If you stop, even if only for a moment
You start sinking
There is no letting go or going back
So, you must keep going
To trudge on no matter what
No matter how deep you sink
How filthy or tired you get
To fight on through the grit and grime
To scream and curse
And claw your way from the depths
To stumble on until y...
Sunday 19th June 2016 2:01 pm
Recent Comments
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
9 minutes ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
18 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
2 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
6 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
8 hours ago
Rolph David on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
9 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
9 hours ago
Rolph David on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
10 hours ago
Rolph David on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
10 hours ago