SUCH GOOD ADVICE, JANE. WE ALL DO HAVE OUR 'MONSTERS' AND TO ADMIT THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE 'VICTORY' OVER THEM...THRU THE POWER OF JESUS! THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
The "monster" IS in, so to keep it at bay we have to do whatever it is we can, good luck with regards entering the cave but you may need more than good luck to exit it...-e-
That scene certainly inspired some dark thoughts in you.
Reminded me… In the 1980s, many people were let out of institutions and given a bus ticket to Houston. When they arrived, they were on the street. On our campus we had a small building for the Presbyterian Fellowship adjacent to our warehouse. In the no man's land lot between an old concrete culvert had been half buried like in the picture at all grown over with urban neglect. For several years and old wino was reputed to live in that culvert.
So, while you're poem elicits all kinds of dark scary thoughts. The culvert in my experience turned out to be an all weather home for a guy on the street. Different strokes for different folks.
Gollum could be in there, Jane. Or it could be a Hobbit house, and that means comfort! :-) The subterranean world of caves all lit up like fairyland can be magical, going through on a boat or simply on foot.
This to me has deep symbolic meaning. Yes, dark caves can be attractive; tempting us in, and then we find out we don't want to be there. Fine write. John
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
A Collection of Voices from Around the World is more than just a poetry compilation. It is a partnership of poets from around the globe brought together by an internet poetry forum. That forum, poetrypages.com, has been the home of many a fine poet s
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Reminded me… In the 1980s, many people were let out of institutions and given a bus ticket to Houston. When they arrived, they were on the street. On our campus we had a small building for the Presbyterian Fellowship adjacent to our warehouse. In the no man's land lot between an old concrete culvert had been half buried like in the picture at all grown over with urban neglect. For several years and old wino was reputed to live in that culvert.
So, while you're poem elicits all kinds of dark scary thoughts. The culvert in my experience turned out to be an all weather home for a guy on the street. Different strokes for different folks.
Ron
Cave In,i.e. You Humans Gone Brain Dead
Sucking On Cell Phomes...
Kool...