Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem (Bob Hicok Poem)
My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with ...
My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with ...
I What new element before us unborn in nature? Is there a new thing under the Sun? At last inquisitive ...
A whisper in my spirit not audible, but so real the comfort of my Savior whispering to me a silent ...
The brittle lawn the early leaves brown where green should be under my feet The crunch of the grass far ...
In the quiet of my soul bowing my head, silent no words audible praying to you in the quiet in ...
Not just our master's tears in the garden all of us aware of the grief that he bore Feeling the ...
Going to the Mount of Olives the garden, Gethsemane our master, a stone's throw farther heavy with sleep yet sensing ...
Our bodies still breathing slowing entering into true worship silent prayers to God A moment of silence not a sound ...
the fog rising from the skin of the lake joining my breath, visible, glinting in the early fall morning light ...
Pain spoke an audible gasp in the congregation at the sudden news of your recent passing a body giving in ...
At your right, I sat with you, near you feeling your presence, your pain Labored breath fell to Slow, uneven ...
The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect -- that's audible -- That is admitted -- ...
A Murmur in the Trees -- to note -- Not loud enough -- for Wind -- A Star -- not ...
A Deed knocks first at Thought And then -- it knocks at Will -- That is the manufacturing spot And ...
Friend of the Wise ! and Teacher of the Good ! Into my heart have I received that Lay More ...
I am a shell. From me you shall not hear The splendid tramplings of insistent drums, The orbed gold of ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
"The silence renews me As I sink into myself And lose the weight of worlds. Liberated of my feverish mind ...
Music: breathing of statues. Perhaps: silence of paintings. You language where all language ends. You time standing vertically on the ...
In the willows along the river at Pleasure Bay A catbird singing, never the same phrase twice. Here under the ...
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seemed and most ...
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