Poems in Foreign Climes

Time runs by so fast that sometimes I think this life is a sprint rather than a marathon.

I once conceived the idea of moving to Paris, Delhi, Rome, or some other big, hot city and there sit on a crowded boulevard offering poems for a dollar (or two) that purported to dive into the hearts of the people who would stop and enquire and pull out pearls of wisdom about them.

Just short stuff, in English, and only from what I saw on their faces and by the way they wear cloth upon their body – not a...

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Published on February 26, 2018 02:20
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message 1: by Linda (new)

Linda Robinson Eerie reading this. Saw a twitter profile yesterday that claimed life is a marathon. I said out loud "no, it's a sprint." And here you are sprinting. Serendipitous.


message 2: by Robert (new)

Robert Day Ah - one of my favourite words - serendipitous!
Nice to meet you, Linda - how the weather in your part of the world? It's snowing in England.


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