Are Nasal Strips a Gateway Drug? by Mark Tulin/ The Haven

Crow On The Wire

When I told my father that I use nasal strips at night, he was worried that it could lead to more serious drugs. “Dad, nasal strips are not drugs,” I said. “I’m not sure about that, but I do know that using nasal strips aren’t natural, and if God intended us to use them, they’d already be attached to our nose.” I looked at my dad as if he were from another planet. After a while, the nasal strips didn’t stop me from snoring and disturbing my partner at night…

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Rhapsody Bohème

It’s time for a little humor and fun with our unusual new words post. I’ll keep it short and sweet and let the smiles and laughter stand for themselves. But perhaps you even known a few Ask-Holes in the past and the memory of it leaves you shaking your head.

Our word for today is Ask-hole (noun) and describes a person who constantly asks for advice, yet always does the opposite of what you told them. 😳🤔

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bound to story –


when from our dreams
wisdom comes
life to empty shelves
a blessing to the seeker
with want
for something else

leather cords
and parchment sleeves
are poor disguise for truth
when given place –
a willing page or two

purpose bound to story
has suffered long the pen
as lifetimes passed
with will to wake

who for this
was meaning sought
line by precious line
what sweet desire
awaited us
this time

. . .

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Out of the mouths of babes…



    “When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college … that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared at me, incredulous, and said, ‘You mean they forget?'”

    • Howard Ikemoto

    Brassaï – Pablo Picasso drawing, 1960.

            Text and image source: Ravenous Butterflies

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            Whispering Suicide – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


            At dVerse Bjorn has invited us to write about war. dVerse Poets – Poetics – War Poetry

            Photo: Jim Huylebroek for the New York Times

            “Only the dead have seen the end of war.” Plato

            Whispering Suicide
            Cheap little saccharine songs for mud,
            manufactured jingles to make you numb 
            to death, mixed ideologies competing for your 
            mind, hollow promises for free, tacky coloured 
            rectangles of cloth whispering suicide to the 
            flesh of youth who dream of becoming,
            who are the heroes in this  moral 
            vacuum of life's bitter ebb, where
            are the children of this rancid death 
            cult now.
            ©Paul Vincent Cannon

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            George Eliot

            House of Heart

            George Eliot

            Mary Ann Evans wanted to escape the stereotype of women’s writing being limited to lighthearted romances. She also wanted to have her fiction judged separately from her widely known work as a translator, editor and critic. Her use of a pen name may also have been a desire to shield her private life from public scrutiny, avoiding the scandal that might have arisen from of her relationship with the marriedGeorge Henry Lewes.

            Lewes met writer Mary Ann Evans in 1851 and by 1854 they had decided to live together. Lewes and his wife Agnes Jervis had agreed to have anopen marriage. Jervis had three children with Lewes and four with an unnamed lover . Lewes, having assumed the role of father to all the children, was unable to divorce Jervis but he and Eliot remained together until death.

            Eliot was not what society considered beautiful however Henry James…

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            The Sounds Of Loneliness

            Walt's Writings

            The Sounds Of Loneliness

            Only the lonely
            hear the sounds of loneliness

            the silence of no company
            no one to talk to

            the sound of a kitchen faucet
            dripping in the sink

            the never changing
            ticking of the clocks

            no squeals or laughter
            of children

            the only music playing
            is sad and melancholy

            sad, lonely songs
            for sad, lonely people

            the telephone rings
            but it’s a wrong number
            or a robocall
            about your car warranty

            the quietness is overwhelming
            nothing but silence

            these are the sounds
            of Loneliness

            ~The Tennessee Poet~
            ©Walt Page 2021 All Rights Reserved

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