Ice Surprise

I regard this sort of poem the most delightful of all.
It tells a shortened short story in the most eloquent way.
Simply sublime.

Prose Me


Walked on the snowy sidewalk


Left deep white footprints

Coming and going

Later snow melted a little

But not much before

Temperatures dropped again

Walked out today and found

My old footprints

Preserved perfectly

Encased in ice

Ice casts

So amazingly cool

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The choice of words are both artistically miserly and appropriately bountiful. This is simply beautiful.


Slipping into and out of this dream


Where reality bleeds into fantasy

Like fog on the water when the margins disappear

Gray on gray

My consciousness is that ambiguous

In this non-moment

One drop that neither falls nor ascends

Holding the promise of the universe

An ocean within a realization

Waiting for gravity or perhaps evaporation

For a moment of transcendence

From discretion to completion

From point to pointless

To oneness with everything

In this stateless dream

Where the margins disappear

Along with the horizons

And there is no other place to look

Except within


David Trudel   ©  2013



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Beyond Imagination

I read these words and marvel at how close they are to my thoughts and experiences.

Jocundly Joodorky

I have nothing

without my inspiration

lost –

with no path to follow.


I am the wanderer

living beyond limits;

flying higher than colored spheres,

into the cotton candy shaped sky,

I disappear.


I am the crack –

present in all beings,

shadowed by the beauty

of its physicality; unmoved –

growing larger with every heart beat.


I am the lesser being

in tune with every falling face

that melts into the ground

I am… Me

-Alex J.

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Open Mind Closed Lips

Most times, people don’t even see and appreciate the lines they’re supposed to read between……


I might have given up when it comes to trying not to feel it

But I will not say it out loud

I will not write it in a letter

I will not type the 7 letters

More deadly than the sins

I know you’re not fighting either

Trust me I can see it

I can read between the lines

Because I can read you like a book

Because parallel brain waves

I will not say it aloud

I will not write it down

I will not type it out

Until you do

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if spring never comes

I am thankful for the unending consumption of ages,

Beautiful. I could almost sing these words like an opera part….
“The lore of hidden passageways and adrenaline without consequence resounding in my head.”

C.A. Allen

I am thankful for the many-faceted glass,

the bending panes through which I perceive my own shadow.


I am thankful for the ever-pouring rain

on a day I can’t bear to say stop or anything but

wait,  listen.


I am thankful for the unending consumption of ages,

the lore of hidden passageways and adrenaline without consequence

resounding in my head.


I am thankful for the tree pushing through my garden, forcing its

small weight, a statement, into the still air.


I am thankful for remembering, when others seem to forget.


I am thankful for that winter when I put my hand on yours and our roles were reversed and

I was so glad you were alive.


I am thankful for the suspension of time as I read in some ill-lighted place,

my shadow stuck close to me.


I am thankful for the opening…

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Interesting….. Had to read it over again.

Maintain the Advance!

“Does it matter who the master
So we serve him honestlie?”
So with the circle squared, unbroken,
I’ll be for you and you for me

Who is lead? Who is support?
Does it matter anyway

Who will rise and give
Who’s open to receive

Who will be the life-raft
And who will climb on top

Who will hold the whip hand
And who will bend the knee

Shall I bow down
To taste and worship

Will you for me
Consent surrender

Which way to pleasure
Yours and mine together

“Does it matter who the mistress
So we serve her honestlie?”
So with the circle squared, unbroken,
I’ll be for you and you for me

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Be Charmed by ‘The Old Man And The Sea’

This Good Old Book……. You wonder if the kids now will enjoy it like we did.

Start With Your Pen



A very short novella that won the author the Nobel Prize for literature. It is simple and straightforward, and you can read it as a heart warming story, or you can choose to read into the many depths of meaning that are put in place.

The story revolves around an old fisherman who has had an extended dry spell in terms of the fish he has caught. The novella is set just off the coast off Havana, Cuba, and the story really stirs into action as the man snags a fish on his line that starts towing him further out to sea.

A great read however you wish to look at it and Hemingway has done a wonderful job , if you have a couple of hours free then this is perfect, and a very easy one to re-read!

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