bradley blue jay phipps
Biography of bradley blue jay phipps
I use Poemhunter to write and edit. It may take months or years to really finish a poem. The website is limiting to ones creativity as I like to play with shapes and such. Comments are nice and encouraging, but not necessary. I hate the phrase, " Thanks for sharing, nice poem." Please don't waste your time or mine. If your poem moves me, I will let you know the truth of it.
bradley blue jay phipps Poems
No Momentum In My Hope
Because of indifference there is no momentum in my hope for love today. I believe in love! But… Frailty rears as my shadow, and I slouch towards an agenda.
M/D Ramblings 107 - Sarcasm And The Word...
“Sarcasm: the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky “I tweet from bed. I love it because it's so quick. And it's funny. But it also leaves a lot of room for error because new people don't sense the sarcasm - there's no sarcasm font.” - Christine Teigen
the language of poetry is mathematics. it is the language of death and life. of love and fear? hate and mercy... and so the cliche goes on... (i am
I Am A Lighthouse
i am a lighthouse because of the months of June and January. random really, but no.
The Unexpected Ethics Of Timing
There is the unexpected ethics of timing, as I was not looking. Nor am, but for the eyes, and
A Turquiose Necklace Made Of Gentle Rain
a time which never existed and has always been is understood by a woman wearing
M/D Ramblings: Love And Imperfection
[I start this by saying, I am trying to find a voice. In the 2 previous attempts, 'the haiku of August 2014' and 'Struggling - September 1,2015' I had a few people encourage me to continue. I have changed the title, as you see above. M/D = manic/depression. Also, if you like to read prose such as this there is another author going by the name st. jinx. She is on an adventure, and her tales are very worthy. http: //allpoetry.com/st.%20jinx] It has been pointed out that I dated the first entry for 2015. I will say that was on bipolar purpose. Or my addictive, sleepless personality if you will. This allows me to hedge my entries, and gives me more time to write. What is a journal... (I am going to begin to use the word ramble instead of journal. To journal is to do it daily.) What is a journal if you don't write but once a year? For me? A grocery list of emotional baggage scribbled on a page or two. How often should I write? Couple of times a week at the very least, I think. That is what I will set as my goal. Goals. Now there is something to ramble about. I have had only one successful goal in my life, and it knocked me out. I scored with a header on a corner kick while playing for the University of Tennessee soccer club in 1975. My only goal ever. I woke up running, or being pulled, back up the field.
M/D Ramblings: Heaven
'There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance - the principle is contempt prior to investigation.' * - Herbert Spencer (Found in Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous - appendix 2 Spiritual Experience) I started this 10 (now 15-18) days ago, and lost the draft. Don't think I hit delete, but it's gone, so logic would not say something, I believe, which leads right into the subject. Belief and unbelief. If scripture were to be my epitaph it would be, '...I do believe, help my unbelief.' (Mark 9: 24) . And, yes, I do find, even for myself, that quoting scripture can be off putting.
M/D Ramblings: Indifference
m/d ramblings 106 - Indifference by bradz blue jay on December 31,2014. © bradley blue jay phipps, All rights reserved
But A Lady At A Well
My will is to be set free. My will is my choice, and my choice alone. I have no need of a
A Foreign Affair
The end of my peer is an apparent horizon beginning beyond the pearls of your caboose. We are cradled into a berth between wooden tracks and the delicacy of your breasts. A rigid softness clings to me a breeze off the ocean of your hair holding sway upon the clutch
not the whisper of a breeze sings the song of silence
[seeking. I Come Electric For Want; A Sl...
Seeking. I come electric for want; a slipstream of providence like dead cactus. Baggage that feeds in the traveling near desert highways, and the abandoned halls of houses who long for paint and
not the whisper
of a breeze
sings the song
leaves rustle softly
waves lap to shore
grass ripples on the
desert prairie of painted