Maryanne Richards

Maryanne Richards
New Zealand
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The sand the seagulls
And the rolling waves
As they crash upon the shore
Quiets the mind.
He Was Old And Bent
He was old and bent
And way past his prime
But those who knew him
Thought he was fine.
Walking along the river bank
In the breeze, listening
to the wind in the trees,
Singing there song through
Watching the dark gray skies and waving palms,
The flowers drooping their heads
And sheltering under the heavy laden leaves.
All the while the pond filling
The Matter Of Fact
The matter of the fact
Is the fact of the matter
About which, thinking only distorts.
If once seen as the fact


Richard Beevor 26 May 2014
Who Am I.....just brilliant, no need to say more, loved it.
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Richard Beevor 26 May 2014
why do we hurt, nice work Maryanne, lovely touch at the end, the brain of mankind, I love words that flow and sometimes dance, yours do both, keep up the good work.
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