06 Thursday Mar 2014
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There were cats in the kitchen of the spinsters Worrell,
There were frogs in the bucket of Deacon Sudbury’s well,
There by the noon bell in the sun at its high,
Was a purring, and a croaking, and the nightingale’s cry,
Where the thorn plums, and the thistle downs, and the touch-me-nots grew,
There in the thicket did the nightingale spew.
by John Patrick Seekamp, 2014
16 Sunday Feb 2014
Posted in Writings
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I wish I’d been, I wish I were, In other times to be,
What you yourself once said you were,
When you yourself were he,
When only matters mattered most,
And most peculiarly,
When all the world was fast asleep, across the lands, and oceans deep, and in the clouds where angels weep,
But alas we are but thee,
And now but now we see!
by John Patrick Seekamp, 2014
I wrote this on Saturday night while trying to think of something to post. My first post!
