Who dares to judge by metaphor alone? Who has not lived and envisioned their senses total fulfilment?
Wilde Jagd riders mount scanning the sunrise horizon. Their horses stamp swirling breath, snorts eyes bulge flanks tremble spurs urge trotting, through canter to gallop; earth trembles under their hooves.
Who dares judge your metaphor? Live the vision you want.
A| thunderstorm downpour or foaming sea-swell surges?
A steam engine’s power with boxed-heat, burning. Press...
Early summer, at field's productive height seasonal rains dwindle to a stair rod thimble as sparse clouds drift to an empty space.
Whilst the world bathes, plays by the sea ponds shrink to shrivelled reeds basin baked and cake cracked. An empty wind rags the wilting landscape where birds call in mirrored silence.
Steady as she goes, tug this trawler to a tranquil harbour, where fishing boats ride, the gentle swell and oily brine sloops against weathered hulls. Along the promenade, flashing rainbow lights and the...