Verbage
I would rather be a verb than a noun
I would rather emerge, shine, fly, dance
And kick up my heels
Rather than just be a person, place or thing
View original post 68 more words
Verbage
I would rather be a verb than a noun
I would rather emerge, shine, fly, dance
And kick up my heels
Rather than just be a person, place or thing
View original post 68 more words
Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos
Well, here we are again, the week is over, and I’m so happy to see you! Grab your tea, iced or hot, and let’s talk! If you’d like to bring along any snacks, please feel free. I saved the comfy seat just for you. 🙂
If we were sipping tea and talking I would tell you: the week started off pretty normally. After food shopping, we had a lovely afternoon together. I wish I had the time for more days like this.
If we were sipping tea and talking I would tell you: I saw the doctor, had blood tests done and was surprised by how well my numbers are! I’m very happy. So aside from the every day nuisances, the rest of me seems to be doing okay.
If we were sipping tea and talking I would tell you: my dear friend Miriam has a promotion for her book…
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Ah, can you hear that sigh of relief? It’s finally warm enough to sketch in my car again without turning into a block of ice. I set out this morning for Valois Village, and by the time I got there it was almost warm enough to crack open the car window a bit.
Laviolette is a popular corner store that’s instantly recognizable to people who know Valois well. I chose it because it’s the most colourful thing I could find in the neighbourhood. March days can be grey, even when the sun is out. There’s no sign of life in the trees and the snow that’s still on the ground is pretty dirty, so any bit of colour helps liven up a sketch. And of course if there are a few utility poles and wires in the scene, I’m a happy sketcher.
Recovering My Mind: Poetry and Rock Music
in this world we share ~ never mine and never yours ~ eternally free —© Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa
teardrops
her words are teardrops
preserved in my eyes
like liquid diamonds
of inspiration
cascading in my heart
seeping bone deep
should you find any beauty
in the verses I spill
it is her reflection
always swimming
in the poetry I weep
Over the weekend I found some old slides of our kitten we got back in 1993. He had a lot of love to give us, and we had much to learn from him. Boxes, bags and newspapers were his favorite things. He would play hard and then take a nap. Then he was back at it for a second round. Problem was he racee up and down the stairs at !0:30 at night, right after we went to bed. He was with us for the next fifteen years. We loved him dearly.
Photos: Dwight L. Roth