Bullion Grey

Rookie - 83 Points (12/28/1960 / Earth)

Bullion Grey Poems

81. An Experience Of Life 9/3/2009
82. A Return 9/3/2009
83. A Simple Request 9/3/2009
84. An Openess 9/3/2009
85. A Thought 9/3/2009
86. A Speck In The Youniverse 9/4/2009
87. Answer 9/5/2009
88. All Dreams.... 9/5/2009
89. A Mystical Dragon..... 9/5/2009
90. The Crab 6/15/2009
91. Years Ago.... 6/18/2009
92. An Inhabitant Of The Novel Of My Life 6/20/2009
93. A Mystical Celebration Of Clues 6/21/2009
94. Becoming More Curious 6/21/2009
95. The Voices Of Time 6/25/2009
96. Rehab. 6/26/2009
97. Its The Game 7/4/2009
98. Once Upon A Planet 7/25/2009
99. Tis Made From Agree 7/25/2009
100. Early Upon The Morn 7/25/2009
101. That Green Field 7/25/2009
102. The Mists Of Time 7/25/2009
103. A Collection.... 9/10/2009
104. The Rise Of Mankind 9/12/2009
105. An Artist Has A Revelation 9/13/2009
106. A True? 9/13/2009
107. Chasing The Now 9/13/2009
108. A Sardonic Thought Form 9/13/2009
109. A Letter To Another 9/14/2009
110. A What Am I Trying To Do? 9/16/2009
111. Here Is I 9/16/2009
112. A Sensing Of Parallel Constructs 9/17/2009
113. A Mistake.... 9/18/2009
114. Our Imaginary Worlds 9/18/2009
115. How Poem Became To Be 9/20/2009
116. A Taste Of Living 9/21/2009
117. The Cosmic Wish Store 6/7/2009
118. Lost & Found 9/26/2009
119. Hold On Please 9/29/2009
120. I Wandered..... 10/4/2009

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Best Poem of Bullion Grey

Letter To A Friend On Vacation

How was your flight? I hope it was as fantastic as
what I imagined it was.
I was flying with you - you know?

As you waited for the plane, boarded, searched for your seat,
got settled...waited for departure, lifted off in the wings
of hundreds of tons of steel, flying toward an uncertain future
(as we all do) , soared among the angels of the sky (clouds)
and saw that the earth was very different just a few feet away.

Yes, I was there while you stumbled to get to the bathroom,
(I waited outside) , then made your way back to your seat.
I saw you ...

Read the full of Letter To A Friend On Vacation

Senseless Time

I search for myself in a senseless time.
Sometimes my search is a senseless rhyme.
A right of passage to my old age,
the thought of enduring a serious stage?
It's not enough all I need, could be such, while I breathe?

Yesterday and today and what of tomorrow,
and the fiddler you paid and what of the sorrow?
Sure there was laughter and joy at sometime,

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