The Compass

Sarah Doughty

“Don’t you know? I’ve always needed you.
That is how I knew my home
was never a place. It was a person.”

You are my compass. My home. My everything. I just didn’t know how much I needed you until you were right there in front of me. I’ve always needed you. And even in those first moments I saw you, I knew you were going to steal my heart. Somehow, out of billions of other souls on this earth, I would know yours apart from all the rest. That is how I knew my home was never a place. It was a person.

© Sarah Doughty

You are my home.

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Choosing Between A Diary and A Journal – Daily Quote

Jo Hawk


Teachers and friends have counseled me, at various times, to keep a diary. Others have extolled the virtues of a journal. We use the two words interchangeably, but they serve different functions. defines a diary as “a daily record, usually private, especially of the writer’s own experiences, observations, feelings, and attitudes.” It describes a journal as “a newspaper or magazine that deals with a particular subject or professional activity, i.e. a medical journal.”

I know people who maintain a record of their daily lives, and they tell me they often study their passages. I tried the exercise, and I admit I never knew what to write. The real test was when, several months later, I reviewed the entries. The blithering idiot responsible for the drivel appalled and embarrassed me. I swore no one would read the garbage, and I burned everything.

Since then, I have decided journals are much more to my liking…

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Word of the Day Challenge


Today’s Word of the Day is Ransom.

If you want to participate, create a pingback to link your post. Not sure how to do that? See how to create pingbacks here. Please note that for the prompts that I publish, the comment box will now remain open for people who experience trouble with pingbacks. However, I won’t guarantee a quick response to actual comments, that would be left here. If you have questions, or ideas you’d like to submit, please use our “contact” page.


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Megha's World

First published in The Quiet Letter, July 2018

has no concept
No definition
My poems have been devoid of emotions
utterly stripped of verses and syllables
with words stripped of its frame
and body
nothing seems to hold on
and stay glued to it
the body is bare
ready to mocked and scraped
and devoured by the
unscrupulous mind
with their turbid thoughts
As the night is patched by the
one eye of the
dark and sullen moon
I stare in the nights
my eyes are devoid of the light
gazing from the emptiness to nothing
they have lost the definition of hope
like the feeling of satiation
in the sunken folds of stomach
Of a hungry child
Like the palms of my granny
whose lines have been scraped clean
by the merciless
whiplash of time
I stand here with the
barren mind
devoid of thoughts
searching fervently

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