“Foggy Park” by Leonid Afremov WITHIN A SILENT MIST Alone within the evening, a silent mist ever so gently drawing me in; alone within my thoughts as I ponder many things. Flickering flames of autumn igniting an otherwise misty grey, glistening magic carpeting the way beneath my feet, rainbowed crimson and gold warming my heart […]
Today’s snow, the first this winter, right on time for once. Even the exotic animals and the mighty american president get their share http://youtu.be/Ll8BWZCsRG0
Introduction to Hermeticism
My first real decision about how to proceed in this plan of mine to go and teach English overseas is to choose a school from which to earn a professional certificate to “teach English to Speakers of Other Languages”.. AKA a TESOL certification. Now, there are LOTS of sources out there from which to earn […]
SPILLING OVER Drop by drop they fill this cup, emotions bottled up inside though not too difficult to see, worn on my sleeve and on my face, waves of emotion and stinging tears washing over and spilling out of the deep recesses inside of me. And here on this page they sometimes find their way, […]
I’ve started the process whereby I give my car away…I’m supposed to get $150 bucks cash…not being able to find the title will cost me $50–is it worth it to somehow go to the DMV and pay for another copy? I don’t think so…not feeling good about myself just now…
Welcome to the November Edition of Pick-Apart Poetry as we look forward to December and the Holidays and a brand new year coming up so very soon. We’re so glad you’ve joined us in celebrating this wonderful time of year in a Pick-Apart way. The idea of Pick-Apart Poetry is to select 25 words from […]
“Drawing Hands” by M.C. Escher TREASURED Holding back the tears of sadness mixed with joy, I close the lid and carefully slip the ribbon back on, placing the treasured box of words collected there back where they came from, somewhere deep within a gentle heart words flowing to each page from her soul through her […]
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER MIDNIGHT . . . . . The hands of the clock wound ever so close to the moment of truth, the hour of midnight, and Dad paced the floor, the same path well worn, wringing his hands and his heart as the dark of the night inched ever closer toward morn. On […]
