Monthly Archives: July 2014

There’s Another Thought….

it doesn’t matter how many times i write a poem or catch a thought trying to escape it will never explain life…. as I sit on the patio listening to the thunder drinking black coffee from a white china cup … Continue reading

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Prepared to Strike….

Growing old is like looking through a cloud trying to hear with the volume turned down while weary limbs refuse to move yet prepared to strike….   Thatcher Doran    

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A Debt to Pleasure Too….

bodies ache spit and sweat and carnal juices flow…. when lust has fled a debt is due…. hangs over head for pleasure will always did…. seek recompense often though by some unforeseen event collect…. in a manner least assumed….   … Continue reading

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Identity

Each person I meet Is a small Fragment of myself   Thatcher Doran

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In a Futile World

A poet writes with the eyes On a page from the heart With words chosen by the soul An honest effort in a futile world   Thatcher Doran

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Best Unsaid….

What can’t be kept…. is best unsaid to keep is to possess and what of memories even feelings…. everything once held eventually…. is released to give and not to take is best…. or so it’s said….   Thatcher Doran

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City Lunchtime

unrelenting march of feet unstopping pounding place to place human ants smiling, scowling….to deter any unsolicited jiving yet, it’s a time to meet to greet a need to eat a latte …. a Dublin sandbo perhaps a veggie in a … Continue reading

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To Be Alone, Unintended

it’s a strange experience but there are times alias…. dark moments void of joy I find myself adrift in a sea of loneliness lost, I cannot comprehend…. this Enigma spaghetti in my head that mere reason cannot counsel ….even compensate … Continue reading

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Philistines on a Friday

in the corner in the leather chair a glass of water on a table round and marbled I hide from prying eyes from dubious tongues words and gossip alas, lunch is over well, almost over though a glass of red … Continue reading

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What Sundays Need is Masking Tape!

a latent melancholy shivers Sunday afternoon…. with all its childhood residues the weekend past, way past its best Monday morning begins to haunt tis going back to school…. again even now, that same old film repeats inside my head the … Continue reading

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