When I woke that night
and saw you lying with me
my heart became yours.
by Scooj
When I woke that night
and saw you lying with me
my heart became yours.
by Scooj
Since you left, I long
to see your face, to talk, to
cup your hands in mine.
by Scooj
Too shy to advance
what would I say to avoid
offence; best keep quiet.
by Scooj
Inspired by an entry in my 1988 journal from the Falkland Islands
The mystery of
form and function stimulates
the thinkers to think.
by Scooj
We go through the hoops
nobody said we had to;
change the paradigm.
by Scooj
There is something very pleasing about walking around the city looking for interesting things and making discoveries. Every now and then you see a real gem that shines so brightly but others do not seem to see. It is not a gift, but at times it feels like one.

This is a beautiful and refreshing piece that recently appeared in the Southern tunnel of The Bearpit. I am guessing, but I have little to go on that this drawing/pastel? is by Yvette Byrd. The only clue I have is in the tiny paste up at the bottom right, with a beautiful poem and signature. I have googled Yvette Byrd, but nothing relevant comes up.

So I must enjoy this piece for what it is rather than the celebrity of its creation. Maybe more work will appear and the pieces of the jigsaw come together. This piece says to me ‘dare to be different’. Somebody new trying something new.
It began with the
kiss of a butterfly wing
unleashing the storm.
by Scooj
Planting out on the
allotment being watched; I
turn, he slinks away.
by Scooj
Summer afternoon
slumber abruptly ended
by a hungry cat.
by Scooj
A tender kiss is
all I ever wanted; my
lost romantic heart.
by Scooj