By Charles Robert Lindholm
America’s
Less Safe
Because Benedict Donald’s
Syrian Decision Risks ISIS
Resurgence
Copyright © 2019 Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – Please Come View My Archive!!
Day: October 15, 2019
Watching Candles Burn, a poem written by Mark Tulin at Spillwords.com
Spilwords.com presents: Watching Candles Burn, a poem by Mark Tulin, a former Philadelphia Family Therapist who now resides in Santa Barbara, California.
— Read on spillwords.com/watching-candles-burn/
Kindred
Today’s Word of the Day is Kindred.
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Kitchen sketching
After lots of travel this summer I’m happy to be back in my kitchen. Not only because I miss home cooking, but also because I like to paint stuff on my kitchen counter.
I’m getting around to trying some of the stuff that I received in the generous goodie bag at the Urban Sketchers Symposium in Amsterdam. My pears were sketched in a watercolour sketchbook made by SM•LT Art. I tried the book first in Amsterdam but I was so exhausted from the heat wave that I really didn’t give it a fair chance. It’s a fairly smooth paper, much like a Stillman & Birn Beta sheet, and it takes the colour really well. Perfect for quick sketches and light washes, although I’m not sure how well it would hold up with lots of layers. I’ll get back to you on that.
I’m also giving a new Italian brush…
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Saturn Structures
“What would it be like if I shed all those masks?
Would you still want to be here?”
My thoughts float around me like moons in orbit. Like a seemingly endless stream popping up and fading away at a moment’s notice. And like the rings surrounding Saturn, I’ve hidden myself beneath layers of masks and façades, hoping no one will see the real me beneath. But then sometimes I wonder, what would it be like if I shed those layers? Would you still want to be here?
© Sarah Doughty
Maybe, I don’t want
to know the answer.
#Shadorma: Watercolor Sky
“In silence the three of them looked at the sunset and thought about God.”
― Maud Hart Lovelace, Betsy-Tacy and Tib
Barren land
sunset warms sandstone
dry landscape
haunting place
as a watercolor sky
kisses the terrain
Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge No. 148 #Synonyms only- Empty/Space
“Either morality has meaning or it doesn’t.”
“The way that the Religious Right has bent and distorted biblical doctrine to support this vulgar man is absolutely obscene. It makes a mockery of their faith and their supposed philosophies.
The moment that Trump insisted on separating immigrant children from their families, locking those children in cages and arguing in court against having to provide soap and toothbrushes to those children, or against turning off the lights so that they could sleep, should have been the red line to any true Christian — or for any human being with a shred of compassion, regardless of faith. But it wasn’t. So, now I no longer know what to call these people.
Righteousness simply can’t be this transactional and situational.
What is the point of your books of rules if you will gladly oblige a man who flouts them? Either morality has meaning or it doesn’t.”
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Cold as ice
Is it clever – to appear clever
And to be paid for it?
Is it clever – to speculate on people
And benefit from them?
Is it clever – to propagate truth
And to hide the lie
Is it clever – to help
And to bath in generousity?
Is it clever – to take
Instead of sharing, giving?
Cleverness that selfishly uses others
Is cold and has no heart
DidiArtist, 05.01.2014
Where I Want To Be ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet
As I sit here writing this
Daylight slowly changing to twilight
I feel myself smiling and I say to myself
“This is where I want to be”
My life has been a challenge
Over these last few months
Surgeries and days of pain
Have worn me to the core
My poetry has helped me
Get through the worst of times
And given me
Some of my best times
After all these years
I am finally
Where I want to be
~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2019 All Rights Reserved
Bony Hand – Donna Matthews
the snow is falling faster
now that my sun has set
the cold flakes
land softly on my face
I hear a whistle
a horse whine
a rein snap
my phantom coach has arrived
my time here finished
his bony hand helps me up
Painting by Donna Matthews
Donna Matthews started writing a couple of years ago when her children started leaving her nest. She enjoys writing poetry, prose, and short stories. In addition to writing, she also loves to read, paint, take pictures, and explore the world on foot. She is passionate about helping others find their voice in both the writing and art communities.
Read more of Donna’s writing at DJ RANCH
The Reluctant Poet 