Aesop: The Goose With the Golden Eggs

davidbruceblog #2

One day a countryman going to the nest of his Goose found there an egg all yellow and glittering. When he took it up it was as heavy as lead and he was going to throw it away, because he thought a trick had been played upon him. But he took it home on second thoughts, and soon found to his delight that it was an egg of pure gold. Every morning the same thing occurred, and he soon became rich by selling his eggs. As he grew rich he grew greedy; and thinking to get at once all the gold the Goose could give, he killed it and opened it only to find nothing.

Greed often o’er reaches itself.

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Home Again

Come read and share this journey and struggle to get back to the arms of your Beloved and Home, forever!

Sarah Doughty

“And when I crashed into your arms,
I knew I’d made it.
I was home again.”

I traveled so far away from home, that I forgot to leave breadcrumbs to find my way back. And I suppose that’s when the helplessness seeped in. That’s when I realized I’d lost my way. I’d lost my home. Out there, in that wilderness, I was lost. Alone. Afraid.

It pulled me deeper into the darkness like a perpetual night without stars or the moon to illuminate my way. But my heart was still filled with love. So I kept holding on. I kept my grip on to hope. And I refused to give up. Admitting defeat wasn’t an option. Accepting that I would never see you again. And I knew, that one day, I would find my way back to you.

After what felt like forever, dawn broke over that horizon and I…

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BLOCK

Love Poems- Words from Heart

Fingers poised on the key board,
Mind muddled with myriad thoughts.
Cant discern what to write,
And what not.
Don’t tell me this is what’s called
the writer’s block.

©© Sona, 2018

All Rights Reserved.

***

Though I was writing a love poem almost every day from the time I joined WordPress, past few days have been slightly different. I had been posting some of my previously penned works and not writing anything fresh.

Even though there are possible images/ stories in my mind, I can’t find the words or that desire to pen them . I know I need to feel good again, and somehow find that mood to write, get inspired and let the words flow.

Since I am primarily a song writer who loves her piano and guitar, I feel I am missing those rhythms, music, inflections and so on when I write poetry. Not sure…

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Sunday

PLEASE, PLEASE Come and Share this delightful and elegant – SUNDAY! Don’t miss
seeing the fantastic art that merges with this poem for a perfect moment!!!

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

Sunshine

in the garden

art and poetry

music and prose

tea and conversation

desire and adoration

chance and possibility

wine and wonder

beauty and silence

a Sunday

in this life.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Johan Messely

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