Bitter words

Barely chewed

Spat against red brick walls

Left to scatter like leaves

Worn and tattered by winter sere


Angry threats

Thinly veiled

Hurled against victor’s gloat

Resonate to none

Lost in the ringing anvil strike


Choking sobs

Unfettered tears

Surge against walled fortress

Doomed to storm’s recession

Salty remnant of cause forgotten



About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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