The Last Breath

jwhhobbs22
Nov 18, 2025
1 min read

In every laboured breath

And deed planned for no tomorrow

In the cold of lightless suns

With no promise of our laboured love

The cold and abandoned heart

Beats its resolve

And warms outer grass

Bending with future breath

No warrior, pilgrim of knight

Thinks of has the belief

In the mortal world that virtue sleeps

It springs at the last

With the promise of perhaps

When you give that bought pain

Perhaps take last laboured breath

By J.W.H. Hobbs.

Recent Posts

See All

What Is Creation?

What is creating something? I’ve asked that to myself, struggling to finish reading a book on the day I set, while someone beside me quite languidly carried on pencil sketching as the sun went down.

Nevermarked

No one can ever truly mar Beautiful things Place words and Attempt peer pressures They can go out of style Be judged out of their merit Kept enclosed or In dark days fade from mind But like sands and

Love the Re-Draft

For all the work I’ve done, sometimes you have to come back immediately. It could be an email, or something annoying me in bed before sleep. I’ve needed to make necessary edits to letters, my website,

Comments