The patch of green
Was gasping for breath.
It stared vacantly,
Like the chicken at the butcher
Staring at death!
The concrete all around-
It’s myriad colours
Grotesque
like the devil’s face,
Seemed to have a vice like grip.
The pained,
cold, despondent,
sighing breath,
let out by the patch of green,
Hangs overhead,
shimmering,
as a veil of smog!
this & that
Random views and musings with a sprinkling of idiocy
Life, the universe and everything, Britta-style
by Britta Benson
Photographer & Travelogue Writer
the magic begins the moment you start being yourself
Not only fiction - an avid non-fiction reader too.
random thoughts
... a beautiful life
Tripping the world, slowly
A blog to inspire the insecure writer in all of us
Explore.Create.Inspire.Learn.Laugh.Live
suffering sappho!!!
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
An Open Mic & Poetry Show
Straight From My Heart 