Comments received on poems by arqios
of silences
Tristan Robert Lange said:
Arqios, this tribute carries both weight and light. You frame silence not as an end, but as space where Tobani’s rhymes remain...lighthouses still casting across shared despair. The imagery of bruised memory, forgiveness, and mateship as compass makes this feel like a map of grief and grace itself. It’s tender, steadfast, and deeply honoring of our friend. Beautifully done! I must say, I really do miss him and hope he will return one day. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 20th, 2025 19:24
Tristan Robert Lange said:
Arqios, this tribute carries both weight and light. You frame silence not as an end, but as space where Tobani’s rhymes remain...lighthouses still casting across shared despair. The imagery of bruised memory, forgiveness, and mateship as compass makes this feel like a map of grief and grace itself. It’s tender, steadfast, and deeply honoring of our friend. Beautifully done! I must say, I really do miss him and hope he will return one day. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 20th, 2025 19:24
of silences
orchidee said:
Good write A. My \'Silent Poem\' begins................... Ain\'t no words in it! lol..
September 20th, 2025 08:44
orchidee said:
Good write A. My \'Silent Poem\' begins................... Ain\'t no words in it! lol..
September 20th, 2025 08:44
of silences
Doggerel Dave said:
The depth of your poetic insight needs no further commentary from me. Your tribute/ plea to Tobani noted and very much endorsed.
September 20th, 2025 06:13
Doggerel Dave said:
The depth of your poetic insight needs no further commentary from me. Your tribute/ plea to Tobani noted and very much endorsed.
September 20th, 2025 06:13
of silences
sorenbarrett said:
A cosmic symphony echoes of tribute to which I add my applause and with enthusiasm call bis and encore. A lovely write my friend that has all the peace and serenity of Beethoven\'s 6th and the majesty of his 9th with the somber tone of Mozart\'s Lacrimosa and hope of Wagner\'s Pilgrim\'s chorus from Tannhauser.
September 20th, 2025 05:38
sorenbarrett said:
A cosmic symphony echoes of tribute to which I add my applause and with enthusiasm call bis and encore. A lovely write my friend that has all the peace and serenity of Beethoven\'s 6th and the majesty of his 9th with the somber tone of Mozart\'s Lacrimosa and hope of Wagner\'s Pilgrim\'s chorus from Tannhauser.
September 20th, 2025 05:38
richer than old king Croesus
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words Rik but for those of us who have a home, food to eat and a loved one in our lives we are richer than Croesus.
Andy
September 20th, 2025 01:53
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words Rik but for those of us who have a home, food to eat and a loved one in our lives we are richer than Croesus.
Andy
September 20th, 2025 01:53
richer than old king Croesus
Tristan Robert Lange said:
Rik, this is powerful. You pit minted suns and vaults of tribute against mornings, street corners, and unshackled words…and in that contrast the real wealth shines. That image of stanzas smuggled in a coat lining stays with me…a chilling picture of poets silenced. Your note deepens it further: Croesus as more than a king, but a symbol of wealth as gatekeeper. Against that, you set poetry as bread broken in the open, courage as the only currency. Fierce, liberating, and true, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 19th, 2025 15:39
Tristan Robert Lange said:
Rik, this is powerful. You pit minted suns and vaults of tribute against mornings, street corners, and unshackled words…and in that contrast the real wealth shines. That image of stanzas smuggled in a coat lining stays with me…a chilling picture of poets silenced. Your note deepens it further: Croesus as more than a king, but a symbol of wealth as gatekeeper. Against that, you set poetry as bread broken in the open, courage as the only currency. Fierce, liberating, and true, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 19th, 2025 15:39
richer than old king Croesus
Bella Shepard said:
I know you count your lucky stars my friend, for you are blessed with the clear vision of one who appreciates the true meaning of life, and possesses the ability to put into words what truly touchs the heart, the mind and soul. Thank you for sharing this gem!
September 19th, 2025 14:32
Bella Shepard said:
I know you count your lucky stars my friend, for you are blessed with the clear vision of one who appreciates the true meaning of life, and possesses the ability to put into words what truly touchs the heart, the mind and soul. Thank you for sharing this gem!
September 19th, 2025 14:32
richer than old king Croesus
Doggerel Dave said:
Full marks there, Rik. I almost ended up shouting \'Yes!\' at the end of each stanza... except my next door neighbor may have banged on the wall... I just hope that our situation whereby our \'freedom, reach, and the ability to speak without price\' continues......
September 19th, 2025 08:24
Doggerel Dave said:
Full marks there, Rik. I almost ended up shouting \'Yes!\' at the end of each stanza... except my next door neighbor may have banged on the wall... I just hope that our situation whereby our \'freedom, reach, and the ability to speak without price\' continues......
September 19th, 2025 08:24
richer than old king Croesus
sorenbarrett said:
Another masterful creation Cryptic such great lines (words walk out unshackled, where a poem can be spoken without a shadow, You measure worth in minted suns, my breath is not taxed at the border of my own tongue) Any one would have made a great poem. The meaning behind the poem a wonderful one. A definite fave
September 19th, 2025 06:10
sorenbarrett said:
Another masterful creation Cryptic such great lines (words walk out unshackled, where a poem can be spoken without a shadow, You measure worth in minted suns, my breath is not taxed at the border of my own tongue) Any one would have made a great poem. The meaning behind the poem a wonderful one. A definite fave
September 19th, 2025 06:10
over-shoulder weather
Max Manley said:
[There was a police officer by the name of Jack, a scruffy man whose life just seems down; He
and others have been sent to an abandoned apartment]
Top officer: Grabs walkie talkie, proceeds to speak, \"four levels up apartment 4-41\".
Jack: bursting into the room guns blazing \"Hands on the ground!\" He looks around the room
seeing many men in long robes with hands locked in a circle. In between them, there are two
children tied up, stuck in chairs.
The other officers: They all come bursting in shooting their guns. \"ON THE GROUND!\" Due to
confusion and many misfires, a bullet ends piercing Jack near his spine.
The next day
Pope Puis XI: Eyes open up fast and wide, gets up, and walks around the Vatican. Feeling
strange about his current situation he kneels and prays on all fours. He gets visions and has the
compulsion to travel by plane to a hospital in Britain.
Jack: Standing in a seemingly light gray void, tad bit misty, smells sad, like rainwater and decay,
he decides to walk around and finds a graveyard of relative size. Near the heart of the cemetery,
Jack spots a skeletal figure and shout \"Hey! Who are you? What is this place?\" The -ey- part is
was stretched out. There is no echo, he was expecting an echo. The figure seems to stands and
then vanish, turning into smoke in meer seconds. The next thing Jack knew he had a skeletal
body hanging over his back holding him to it with its hand over its mouth, head to his ear, and
back to chest.
Figure: \"This tree is my domain, what brings you here?\" its voice seems deteriorated, yet
feminine. \"It\'s been so long since a soul was sent here. Some deity by the name of YHWH or
something like that declared himself the supreme ruler millennium ago and- oh it doesn\'t matter,
he\'s a hypocrite anyway.\" There is a pause, \"You must have a rare soul... those burn up fast.
You must have skipped that conductor guy and everything... Hmm.\" This unnamed deity while in
contemplation does to her bemusement fails to realize the absence of its specimen.
Jack: With his heart pounding Jack wakes up seeing a mildly overweight man wearing mostly
lightweight garb made of white, possibly yellow silk and a red cape. He had a yarmulke upon his
head with short, thin hair, thin brows, and a wonky, wide nose and sunken, flabby cheekbones.
To the side of this fat man stands a skinny short woman with black hair. Jack jumps up out of his
bed \"The Pope?\" and cocks his head.
Women: \"Yes, this is Pope Pius the XIth, he wants to pray over you\" she speaks in Italian to tell
the pope that Jack is ready. \"He believes you are possessed by a demon, a relatively week one
mind you, but a dangerous enough one to get the Pope involved.\"
Jack: Not aware of the fact he may as well be nude, only wearing an apron, decides he should
turn around said apron, then ties the ends of it to his feet, runs, then jumps out the window
using his apron as a hang glider-esk bodysuit and glides to his house. It\'s Beautiful to him up
there. Things start to fade again.
The figure: \"Oh, you\'re back! I\'ve been thinking. I believe you can be of use to me. That, and I
believe you\'d rather not die. How about we find ourselves a middle ground. I want you to work
for me; to be a grim.\'\' The figure offer\'s Jack a handful of utensils. The first is a double-barrel
gas tank with flexible tubings coming out their sides, a robe, a gas mask, and a black wooden
pole with a deep rosy, almost purple crystal on top. The crystal was about the size of a balled-up
fist and cut to look like a gem you may see on a wedding ring.
Jack: Looking down at the equipment laid before him Jack first examines the gas tanks. On one
barrel (the left) reads BCU and the other (the right) reads SCU. The robe just seemed to be a
black robe. The cane had white, pale trim starting from the bottom looking like vines, or flower
stems; as you look further up the black cane the trim seems to spiral.
Figure: \"These will help you, use them as tools, nothing deeper. When using the tanks make
sure you use the mask. Now grab the staff and tap twice this on the ground with it.\"
Jack: Jack does as instructed and wakes at the foot of his doorstep. His mind feels hazy and
feels a repeated compact slobbering on his cheek. His head perks up fast, \"Sparky? Nice to see
you too.\" Sparky is a brown, average looking german shepherd with one black ear, one white
ear. \"Let\'s go inside dogie. OH! Would you look at that, I need clothing.\" As Jack and his pet
open the door and walk into his house, the two are bombarded by the Pope and his translater
women.
Pope Puis Xi: Puis speaks to Jack in Italian, Clever ploy short-haired, male brunet, but you can\'t
escape God, for I am him on Earth. Puis\'s blank stare turns into a coy smile and maniacally
laugh.
Translator Women: Susan sighs, \" He says you cleaver, but he\'s not one to be deterred from.\"
she looks down with her hand over her face. She thought when she went to work for the Vatican
she would be positively helping the world, not translating the word of some oversized man-child.
Jack: His eyes dart around his living room trying to gather what he has in his head, \"Sick them
Sparky.\" Sarky jumps onto the Pope, biting him, with his teeth sinking into the Pope’s clavicle.
The sound of the Pope screaming in horror made Jack smirk. Jack drew his cane, he felt as if
he was losing control of his person; Jack no more, only the beast that lay inside. \"Hello Pope,
The name\'s Jack. Jack Matter.\" Who we saw as Jack meer moments ago is now a
personification of something eldritch in nature. The canes crystal began to glow a deep purple,
within the crystal a white light glistened. Gas mask grue from his face. First, the filter of the
mask sticking from out of his mouth, his skin seeming to melt into the leather of the mask. Then
his eyes, oh his eyes; they seemed to fill with black tare, lids morphing into mettle, and blades of
glass spiraled from the edges, covering the center wear his eyes would previously have been.
Finally, a black nozzle extended from the nose piece and attached itself to the tanks on his
back, through a hole on the back of his cloak near his neck. He was floating there, in the middle
of the living room. All life seemed to fade from it, smoke and dust filling the room coming from
the bottom of the deep collared cloak. \'Something wrong mister Pope?\' Pope was vocalized with
much punctuation \'You seemed so cooky before, now you just whimper. Let\'s not waste this
blood, shall we?\' Jack fly\'s towards the man lying before him. Grasping upon tubing from the left
tank from which it sprouts from and it morphs around the thighs of Pius. Needles sink into his
bone as the Pope screams in pain for help, in Italian of course. The tube sucks out blood and
bone marrow, the needles move about the body like tapeworm, not letting a single drop be left
to waste. The left tank is full. Jack, with his right hand, taps his cane on the floor twice and
faints; All of his supernatural equipment disappears as he false unto the ground face first.
September 19th, 2025 03:17
Max Manley said:
[There was a police officer by the name of Jack, a scruffy man whose life just seems down; He
and others have been sent to an abandoned apartment]
Top officer: Grabs walkie talkie, proceeds to speak, \"four levels up apartment 4-41\".
Jack: bursting into the room guns blazing \"Hands on the ground!\" He looks around the room
seeing many men in long robes with hands locked in a circle. In between them, there are two
children tied up, stuck in chairs.
The other officers: They all come bursting in shooting their guns. \"ON THE GROUND!\" Due to
confusion and many misfires, a bullet ends piercing Jack near his spine.
The next day
Pope Puis XI: Eyes open up fast and wide, gets up, and walks around the Vatican. Feeling
strange about his current situation he kneels and prays on all fours. He gets visions and has the
compulsion to travel by plane to a hospital in Britain.
Jack: Standing in a seemingly light gray void, tad bit misty, smells sad, like rainwater and decay,
he decides to walk around and finds a graveyard of relative size. Near the heart of the cemetery,
Jack spots a skeletal figure and shout \"Hey! Who are you? What is this place?\" The -ey- part is
was stretched out. There is no echo, he was expecting an echo. The figure seems to stands and
then vanish, turning into smoke in meer seconds. The next thing Jack knew he had a skeletal
body hanging over his back holding him to it with its hand over its mouth, head to his ear, and
back to chest.
Figure: \"This tree is my domain, what brings you here?\" its voice seems deteriorated, yet
feminine. \"It\'s been so long since a soul was sent here. Some deity by the name of YHWH or
something like that declared himself the supreme ruler millennium ago and- oh it doesn\'t matter,
he\'s a hypocrite anyway.\" There is a pause, \"You must have a rare soul... those burn up fast.
You must have skipped that conductor guy and everything... Hmm.\" This unnamed deity while in
contemplation does to her bemusement fails to realize the absence of its specimen.
Jack: With his heart pounding Jack wakes up seeing a mildly overweight man wearing mostly
lightweight garb made of white, possibly yellow silk and a red cape. He had a yarmulke upon his
head with short, thin hair, thin brows, and a wonky, wide nose and sunken, flabby cheekbones.
To the side of this fat man stands a skinny short woman with black hair. Jack jumps up out of his
bed \"The Pope?\" and cocks his head.
Women: \"Yes, this is Pope Pius the XIth, he wants to pray over you\" she speaks in Italian to tell
the pope that Jack is ready. \"He believes you are possessed by a demon, a relatively week one
mind you, but a dangerous enough one to get the Pope involved.\"
Jack: Not aware of the fact he may as well be nude, only wearing an apron, decides he should
turn around said apron, then ties the ends of it to his feet, runs, then jumps out the window
using his apron as a hang glider-esk bodysuit and glides to his house. It\'s Beautiful to him up
there. Things start to fade again.
The figure: \"Oh, you\'re back! I\'ve been thinking. I believe you can be of use to me. That, and I
believe you\'d rather not die. How about we find ourselves a middle ground. I want you to work
for me; to be a grim.\'\' The figure offer\'s Jack a handful of utensils. The first is a double-barrel
gas tank with flexible tubings coming out their sides, a robe, a gas mask, and a black wooden
pole with a deep rosy, almost purple crystal on top. The crystal was about the size of a balled-up
fist and cut to look like a gem you may see on a wedding ring.
Jack: Looking down at the equipment laid before him Jack first examines the gas tanks. On one
barrel (the left) reads BCU and the other (the right) reads SCU. The robe just seemed to be a
black robe. The cane had white, pale trim starting from the bottom looking like vines, or flower
stems; as you look further up the black cane the trim seems to spiral.
Figure: \"These will help you, use them as tools, nothing deeper. When using the tanks make
sure you use the mask. Now grab the staff and tap twice this on the ground with it.\"
Jack: Jack does as instructed and wakes at the foot of his doorstep. His mind feels hazy and
feels a repeated compact slobbering on his cheek. His head perks up fast, \"Sparky? Nice to see
you too.\" Sparky is a brown, average looking german shepherd with one black ear, one white
ear. \"Let\'s go inside dogie. OH! Would you look at that, I need clothing.\" As Jack and his pet
open the door and walk into his house, the two are bombarded by the Pope and his translater
women.
Pope Puis Xi: Puis speaks to Jack in Italian, Clever ploy short-haired, male brunet, but you can\'t
escape God, for I am him on Earth. Puis\'s blank stare turns into a coy smile and maniacally
laugh.
Translator Women: Susan sighs, \" He says you cleaver, but he\'s not one to be deterred from.\"
she looks down with her hand over her face. She thought when she went to work for the Vatican
she would be positively helping the world, not translating the word of some oversized man-child.
Jack: His eyes dart around his living room trying to gather what he has in his head, \"Sick them
Sparky.\" Sarky jumps onto the Pope, biting him, with his teeth sinking into the Pope’s clavicle.
The sound of the Pope screaming in horror made Jack smirk. Jack drew his cane, he felt as if
he was losing control of his person; Jack no more, only the beast that lay inside. \"Hello Pope,
The name\'s Jack. Jack Matter.\" Who we saw as Jack meer moments ago is now a
personification of something eldritch in nature. The canes crystal began to glow a deep purple,
within the crystal a white light glistened. Gas mask grue from his face. First, the filter of the
mask sticking from out of his mouth, his skin seeming to melt into the leather of the mask. Then
his eyes, oh his eyes; they seemed to fill with black tare, lids morphing into mettle, and blades of
glass spiraled from the edges, covering the center wear his eyes would previously have been.
Finally, a black nozzle extended from the nose piece and attached itself to the tanks on his
back, through a hole on the back of his cloak near his neck. He was floating there, in the middle
of the living room. All life seemed to fade from it, smoke and dust filling the room coming from
the bottom of the deep collared cloak. \'Something wrong mister Pope?\' Pope was vocalized with
much punctuation \'You seemed so cooky before, now you just whimper. Let\'s not waste this
blood, shall we?\' Jack fly\'s towards the man lying before him. Grasping upon tubing from the left
tank from which it sprouts from and it morphs around the thighs of Pius. Needles sink into his
bone as the Pope screams in pain for help, in Italian of course. The tube sucks out blood and
bone marrow, the needles move about the body like tapeworm, not letting a single drop be left
to waste. The left tank is full. Jack, with his right hand, taps his cane on the floor twice and
faints; All of his supernatural equipment disappears as he false unto the ground face first.
September 19th, 2025 03:17
in the quiet tide
Goldfinch60 said:
Such true words Rik we all have unwritten poems within us.
Andy
September 19th, 2025 00:55
Goldfinch60 said:
Such true words Rik we all have unwritten poems within us.
Andy
September 19th, 2025 00:55
in the quiet tide
Tristan Robert Lange said:
My friend, I’ve carried unwritten lines like this myself…held tight in the undertow, perfect before they ever touch paper. You’ve captured that beautifully 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 18th, 2025 18:09
Tristan Robert Lange said:
My friend, I’ve carried unwritten lines like this myself…held tight in the undertow, perfect before they ever touch paper. You’ve captured that beautifully 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 18th, 2025 18:09
in the quiet tide
orchidee said:
And now from me \'An Unspoken Poem\'. What\'s in it, they ask. Dunno, I\'ve not spoken it yet! Doh!
September 18th, 2025 11:38
orchidee said:
And now from me \'An Unspoken Poem\'. What\'s in it, they ask. Dunno, I\'ve not spoken it yet! Doh!
September 18th, 2025 11:38
in the quiet tide
Bella Shepard said:
I love reading this poem aloud, with its gentle phrasing and beautiful sentiment, it reaches the poetic heart. Exceptionally done!!
September 18th, 2025 09:15
Bella Shepard said:
I love reading this poem aloud, with its gentle phrasing and beautiful sentiment, it reaches the poetic heart. Exceptionally done!!
September 18th, 2025 09:15
in the quiet tide
sorenbarrett said:
How many times I have grasped for a submerged thought to find an empty hand deceived by the surface refraction of light that bent the image below. I have seen many pulled back by the waves now out of reach. A wonderful write Cryptic that I have thought of and written on before. Very nicely expressed in this metaphor it resounds in the falling of each wave. Above all else don\'t let the muse drown
September 18th, 2025 05:33
sorenbarrett said:
How many times I have grasped for a submerged thought to find an empty hand deceived by the surface refraction of light that bent the image below. I have seen many pulled back by the waves now out of reach. A wonderful write Cryptic that I have thought of and written on before. Very nicely expressed in this metaphor it resounds in the falling of each wave. Above all else don\'t let the muse drown
September 18th, 2025 05:33
over-shoulder weather
Goldfinch60 said:
We must always keep walking that road Rik as the glory of life could be around the next corner or behind the next door.
Andy
September 18th, 2025 01:46
Goldfinch60 said:
We must always keep walking that road Rik as the glory of life could be around the next corner or behind the next door.
Andy
September 18th, 2025 01:46
over-shoulder weather
Fína Elara 🌙 Petra Patrice said:
This poem is beautifully meditative, layered with imagery of remorse, memory, and inescapable self-reflection. Nicely written.✨
September 17th, 2025 14:54
Fína Elara 🌙 Petra Patrice said:
This poem is beautifully meditative, layered with imagery of remorse, memory, and inescapable self-reflection. Nicely written.✨
September 17th, 2025 14:54
over-shoulder weather
Kevin Hulme said:
\'Always one Chair turned away \'. Some Wonderful lines. A fine write.
September 17th, 2025 12:17
Kevin Hulme said:
\'Always one Chair turned away \'. Some Wonderful lines. A fine write.
September 17th, 2025 12:17
over-shoulder weather
Tristan Robert Lange said:
Arqios, this lingers like a ghost at your shoulder…the pilgrim with a mirror, the horizon wearing your shadow, the door that always leads back to the same vestibule. It’s haunting, relentless, and beautifully wrought. A fave, my dear friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 17th, 2025 11:06
Tristan Robert Lange said:
Arqios, this lingers like a ghost at your shoulder…the pilgrim with a mirror, the horizon wearing your shadow, the door that always leads back to the same vestibule. It’s haunting, relentless, and beautifully wrought. A fave, my dear friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 17th, 2025 11:06
over-shoulder weather
Friendship said:
“Over-Shoulder Weather” explores themes of memory, guilt, and the inescapable nature of one’s past. The speaker reflects on their transgressions and the lasting effects of their actions, acknowledging that while they have attempted to move forward, the weight of their past continues to influence their present.
September 17th, 2025 08:40
Friendship said:
“Over-Shoulder Weather” explores themes of memory, guilt, and the inescapable nature of one’s past. The speaker reflects on their transgressions and the lasting effects of their actions, acknowledging that while they have attempted to move forward, the weight of their past continues to influence their present.
September 17th, 2025 08:40
homestead knights
Tom Dylan said:
You capture the adventures we would go on in our imagination. A fine write.
September 17th, 2025 07:07
Tom Dylan said:
You capture the adventures we would go on in our imagination. A fine write.
September 17th, 2025 07:07
over-shoulder weather
sorenbarrett said:
Solemn, heavy with a darkness. There is a feeling of melancholy and sadness tinged with feelings of remorse. So poetically written it paints a scene covered with the ageing and darkening lacquer of an old painting. Reflections hold a wistful sadness of leaving a place one can not leave but have always been absent from. This piece is truly existential at its core. Very nicely done my friend and a fave
September 17th, 2025 06:15
sorenbarrett said:
Solemn, heavy with a darkness. There is a feeling of melancholy and sadness tinged with feelings of remorse. So poetically written it paints a scene covered with the ageing and darkening lacquer of an old painting. Reflections hold a wistful sadness of leaving a place one can not leave but have always been absent from. This piece is truly existential at its core. Very nicely done my friend and a fave
September 17th, 2025 06:15
homestead knights
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words Rik taking me right back to my childhood, sword fighting and firing bows and arrow but we were never hurt and had wonderful playful days.
Thank you for bringing those memories to me once more.
Andy
September 17th, 2025 01:29
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words Rik taking me right back to my childhood, sword fighting and firing bows and arrow but we were never hurt and had wonderful playful days.
Thank you for bringing those memories to me once more.
Andy
September 17th, 2025 01:29
homestead knights
Tristan Robert Lange said:
That moment of “boots steaming in the cool” stays with me…it grounds the whole piece, reminding us these knights were kids first. Such a vivid, human touch, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 16th, 2025 15:25
Tristan Robert Lange said:
That moment of “boots steaming in the cool” stays with me…it grounds the whole piece, reminding us these knights were kids first. Such a vivid, human touch, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
September 16th, 2025 15:25
homestead knights
Kevin Hulme said:
So enjoyed this. Brought back memories of my own Childhood playing with my Brother.
I used to play \'Dr who\' and the Wardrobe was the \'Tardis\'. One day it toppled over with me inside 😂
A Childs Imagination is a Wonderful thing.
A fine Poem.
September 16th, 2025 08:28
Kevin Hulme said:
So enjoyed this. Brought back memories of my own Childhood playing with my Brother.
I used to play \'Dr who\' and the Wardrobe was the \'Tardis\'. One day it toppled over with me inside 😂
A Childs Imagination is a Wonderful thing.
A fine Poem.
September 16th, 2025 08:28
homestead knights
rebellion_in_sanity said:
A beautiful poem. Not sure why it brought to my \"When I was small, and Christmas trees were tall\". Can\'t recall which song or who sang it though.
September 16th, 2025 08:23
rebellion_in_sanity said:
A beautiful poem. Not sure why it brought to my \"When I was small, and Christmas trees were tall\". Can\'t recall which song or who sang it though.
September 16th, 2025 08:23
homestead knights
Doggerel Dave said:
Charming and for me complete view of one kind of a childhood world, Rik.
Enjoyed thoroughly.
September 16th, 2025 08:18
Doggerel Dave said:
Charming and for me complete view of one kind of a childhood world, Rik.
Enjoyed thoroughly.
September 16th, 2025 08:18
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