Long Distance Friends 😞

Musings Of An Autistic Mind

Long distance friendship

Leaves us missing

Not words, but breath

Giving us not heartbeats, but heartache

Because woven in the distance between

Are the failures of all our dreams

When the storms begin to form

And the rains try to wash away

All the love we have for each other

Sometimes it seems we’re not meant to be

And all of these feelings are just that

Something that passes, and is passed

From one unsuspecting soul to another

Yet somehow, some way

Even when the night changes

It never changes us

Only brings us closer

In hopes of a nearer tomorrow

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Rue Villeray sous la pluie

Shari Blaukopf's Sketchbook

It’s end of semester for me which means lots of grading, tests to prepare, etc., but when I have a free hour or two, I grab it. At lunchtime today, I drove to the Villeray neighbourhood, a favourite area of mine to sketch since the streets are full of life, there’s often parking, and I can find lots of great small buildings to sketch.

Today’s struggle was with the rain. It wasn’t coming down hard enough to be a deterrent, but the light drizzle eventually blocked my view and every few minutes I had to turn the wipers on to clear up the car window. An annoyance, no doubt, but worth it because I was able to finish a sketch during my short break. Sketched on a block of Arches CP, 10″ x 14″.

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Pause

Haiku out of Africa

revealing our souls ~ in this moment that we share ~ then I hold my breath — © Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa

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Pensils

Haiku out of Africa

artwork created ~ with every word we write ~ something new is born — © Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa

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Best Dreaming

Sarah Doughty

“My best dreams are the ones
where I’m with you.”

You see, my dreams have always been scattered. Stuck somewhere between what was, what is, and what could be. While I’m dreaming, I’m never really sure where I am until I’m awake again. Sometimes, the dreams can’t stop soon enough. But others — those special nights when I believe my dreams might actually be true — I find that I’m caught between two different worlds. The one that’s real. And the one that exists beyond this existence. That’s where I am when I’m with you. That’s where I feel most alive. That’s where I feel free — b e c a u s e I’m with you.

© Sarah Doughty

Right where I’m supposed to be.

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December’s First Sunday ~ Souls Searching Poetry

Steps In Between

The month of December is magical. Whether you celebrate a cultural holiday or not; winter is upon us. There’s something quietly enchanting about that. As always at “Steps In Between,” the first Sunday post of a new month is saved for the celebration of poems. I am honored to share my Wednesday Whims of Poetry with you: (https://stepsinbetween.com/poetry/)

Please visit, share this page, and stay a while. Let your soul settle in and find the magic of a moment. There’s more than “Wednesday Whims…” I have pages of “Poetry Friends” and updates about my “Writing Projects.” I would love to share my space with you during the upcoming quietude of winter.

My poem inspired by the turning of the calendar…

December’s Claim

December falls softly

without footfall, without tracks,

to break the calm in the night.

December grips windows

without disclosure to the panes,

calligraphy espied by dawn.

December spreads…

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Blank

paeansunpluggedblog

I have been sitting long

With my pen poised over paper

To spill silly secrets of my heart

The verses flutter around

Like multi-hued butterflies

Refusing to alight on paper

The words seem stuck to my tongue

Declining to flow with the ink

I stare at the blank page

My poem hangs in limbo!

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First Snow – A Haiku Poem

Walt's Writings

First snow came today
Slowly falling from above
Fall, where did you go

~The Tennessee Poet~

©Walt Page 2018 All Rights Reserved

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My dear, when…

Sacred Touches

**Image via Pinterest; text added by Natalie

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our little secret

The Lonely Author

our little secret

My love
everyone wants to know
our little secret
can’t they see
you live in my poetry
For every beautiful word
every little inflection
is an alluring reflection
of you
For I never seek inspiration
in the birds or bees
or classic Greek tragedies
This poet writes
by inclination
Don’t tell anyone
of this little revelation
there’s no denying that it’s true
our little secret
My heart beats metaphors
just for you

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