Poems by Brother Ollie: the Tired Monk
I can feel the fizz of cold Labatt's,the sting of the mosquitos and the crackle of the wood. I can see the eyes of Teddy "Butterscotch" Miller bearing down on me as I'm tasting his sister's lips. We'll fight when the kissin's done.HP
This is quite a journey you take us on...I can see the images your words conjure with crystal clarity...nicely done.
The photo looks like an old LP album cover from Back in the Day:)You took me on a journey back. I never partied in a field, but on the blockades to stop the clearcutting of old growth, there was always a morning fire, with someone softly tapping on tomtoms in the glow...........sigh. Great poem!It sounds like such a fun time - everyone singing!!
Old Ollie,You formed the perfect night out.One of those nights from 'way back when', that I never wanted to end either.Thank you for a pleasant 'look back'!!!Best wishes, Eileen :)
Thanks for helping with the development of Olsonomics.