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    <title>poetry &amp;mdash; the MPT Room</title>
    <link>https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:poetry</link>
    <description>Fallow grounds grow fertile with time.</description>
    <pubDate>Fri, 07 Aug 2026 23:34:03 +0000</pubDate>
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      <url>https://i.snap.as/9qkKYJeI.png</url>
      <title>poetry &amp;mdash; the MPT Room</title>
      <link>https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:poetry</link>
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      <title>Be Wise, My Son</title>
      <link>https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/be-wise-my-son?pk_campaign=rss-feed</link>
      <description>&lt;![CDATA[&#xA;&#xA;Foolishness is a disease &#xA;that comes on very slowly. &#xA;!--more--&#xA;And without preamble or prejudice. &#xA;&#xA;No cure,&#xA;Only symptomatic mitigation&#xA;And &#xA;the collateral tears.&#xA;&#xA;Affliction of the young,&#xA;The old&#xA;The wise&#xA;The bold, especially.&#xA;&#xA;It cares little for your&#xA;Hopes and dreams&#xA;Except to bend&#xA;Them to it’s ineffable will.&#xA;&#xA;Like a sucker punch,&#xA;foolishness is impossible to expect.&#xA;The best you can hope for&#xA;Is to counter the blow with routine. &#xA;&#xA;Of goodness,&#xA;Of seriousness&#xA;Of generosity&#xA;Of will.&#xA;&#xA;What began as &#xA;parental illness,&#xA;Propagated to pandemic&#xA;And today… Endemic.&#xA;&#xA;Incurable.&#xA;But it shall&#xA;Not always be so.&#xA;&#xA;One day, foolishness,&#xA;which is ever tied up in the&#xA;heart of a boy,&#xA;will die with youth.&#xA;&#xA;We will laugh &#xA;At the foolishness&#xA;Of Children&#xA;When we can truly&#xA;Say we are men.&#xA;&#xA;When we are wise&#xA;And can see&#xA;the end from &#xA;The beginning&#xA;And so we STOP.&#xA;&#xA;And marvel&#xA;At how &#xA;Knowledge applied,&#xA;Really is wise.&#xA;&#xA;---&#xA;&#xA;poetry&#xA;]]&gt;</description>
      <content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://i.snap.as/IHS5br7k.jpg" alt=""/></p>

<p>Foolishness is a disease
that comes on very slowly.

And without preamble or prejudice.</p>

<p>No cure,
Only symptomatic mitigation
And
the collateral tears.</p>

<p>Affliction of the young,
The old
The wise
The bold, especially.</p>

<p>It cares little for your
Hopes and dreams
Except to bend
Them to it’s ineffable will.</p>

<p>Like a sucker punch,
foolishness is impossible to expect.
The best you can hope for
Is to counter the blow with routine.</p>

<p>Of goodness,
Of seriousness
Of generosity
Of will.</p>

<p>What began as
parental illness,
Propagated to pandemic
And today… Endemic.</p>

<p>Incurable.
But it shall
Not always be so.</p>

<p>One day, foolishness,
which is ever tied up in the
heart of a boy,
will die with youth.</p>

<p>We will laugh
At the foolishness
Of Children
When we can truly
Say we are men.</p>

<p>When we are wise
And can see
the end from
The beginning
And so we STOP.</p>

<p>And marvel
At how
Knowledge applied,
Really is wise.</p>

<p><img src="https://i.snap.as/D4DXYb5l.jpeg" alt=""/></p>

<p><img src="https://i.snap.as/TiMqaZip.jpeg" alt=""/></p>

<hr/>

<p><a href="https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:poetry" class="hashtag"><span>#</span><span class="p-category">poetry</span></a></p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <guid>https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/be-wise-my-son</guid>
      <pubDate>Tue, 14 Jul 2026 02:56:44 +0000</pubDate>
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    <item>
      <title>Fading Whistles</title>
      <link>https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/fading-whistles?pk_campaign=rss-feed</link>
      <description>&lt;![CDATA[&#xA;&#xA;  What is it you would like to say?  Say it, for this is the world’s end.&#xA;&#xA;!--more--&#xA;&#xA;A poem about death shortly after the anniversary of losing my wife&#39;s closest friend.&#xA;&#xA;---&#xA;&#xA;How could I worry about me?&#xA;&#xA;I am now struck—&#xA;Struck by how much I loved her,&#xA;And how through all the years,&#xA;I never once said, I love you.&#xA;&#xA;I laughed with her.&#xA;Supped with her. &#xA;Took her cookies. &#xA;Listened to her.&#xA;Suffered next to her.&#xA;Dreamed of her.&#xA;&#xA;But—like my flesh and blood,&#xA;I took her for granted—&#xA;This woman who gathered me in,&#xA;Through three decades and five,&#xA;Sometimes as son,&#xA;Sometimes as brother,&#xA;Sometimes as a wise one.&#xA;&#xA;—&#xA;&#xA;Now, it&#39;s 3:30 a.m.,&#xA;Adrift in the emptiness of a parking lot &#xA; I hear the distant whistle&#xA;Of a night train crying&#xA;Through the wind. &#xA;&#xA;The clack-clack-clack&#xA;Rolling in the dark&#xA;Carries me back &#xA;Where these sounds once&#xA;Wove themselves into her walls. &#xA;&#xA;Vibrations signaling I was trapped—&#xA;Not in fear,&#xA;But in refuge&#xA;Walled from a worried world&#xA;For just a few minutes more.&#xA;&#xA;How I wish now—&#xA;I wish I could be trapped one more time,&#xA;Just for those moments.&#xA;Not long—&#xA;Just long enough to say:&#xA;&#xA;Thank you.&#xA;&#xA;I love you.&#xA;&#xA;---&#xA;&#xA;#poetry #death #confession #storytelling #write #100daystooffload&#xA;&#xA;---&#xA;2025-04-26 09:39:17]]&gt;</description>
      <content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><img src="https://i.snap.as/eD8l2UW9.jpg" alt=""/></p>

<blockquote><p>What is it you would like to say?  Say it, for this is the world’s end.</p></blockquote>



<p>A poem about death shortly after the anniversary of losing my wife&#39;s closest friend.</p>

<hr/>

<p>How could I worry about me?</p>

<p>I am now struck—
Struck by how much I loved her,
And how through all the years,
I never once said, I love you.</p>

<p>I laughed with her.
Supped with her.
Took her cookies.
Listened to her.
Suffered next to her.
Dreamed of her.</p>

<p>But—like my flesh and blood,
I took her for granted—
This woman who gathered me in,
Through three decades and five,
Sometimes as son,
Sometimes as brother,
Sometimes as a wise one.</p>

<p>—</p>

<p>Now, it&#39;s 3:30 a.m.,
Adrift in the emptiness of a parking lot
 I hear the distant whistle
Of a night train crying
Through the wind. </p>

<p>The clack-clack-clack
Rolling in the dark
Carries me back
Where these sounds once
Wove themselves into her walls.</p>

<p>Vibrations signaling I was trapped—
Not in fear,
But in refuge
Walled from a worried world
For just a few minutes more.</p>

<p>How I wish now—
I wish I could be trapped one more time,
Just for those moments.
Not long—
Just long enough to say:</p>

<p>Thank you.</p>

<p>I love you.</p>

<hr/>

<p><a href="https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:poetry" class="hashtag"><span>#</span><span class="p-category">poetry</span></a> <a href="https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:death" class="hashtag"><span>#</span><span class="p-category">death</span></a> <a href="https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:confession" class="hashtag"><span>#</span><span class="p-category">confession</span></a> <a href="https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:storytelling" class="hashtag"><span>#</span><span class="p-category">storytelling</span></a> <a href="https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:write" class="hashtag"><span>#</span><span class="p-category">write</span></a> <a href="https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/tag:100daystooffload" class="hashtag"><span>#</span><span class="p-category">100daystooffload</span></a></p>

<hr/>

<p>2025-04-26 09:39:17</p>
]]></content:encoded>
      <guid>https://wolfinwool.writeas.com/fading-whistles</guid>
      <pubDate>Wed, 06 Aug 2025 04:56:48 +0000</pubDate>
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