We must live within them from time to time. Clouded mist and gray skies. But then emerges blue-sky dreams filled with hope. Hope tugs our hearts and souls on ghost threads tangible as steel and delicate as ether. Strong as any weapon while fragile as love’s fading kiss. How strong are your hopes? And how weak? And do you hope at all? I certainly hope so.
And so should you.
As the budding rose is to the rising sun
drawing forth in fiery splendor
so are we
As the smile of a child is to the parent’s heart
bringing forth love in all its mysterious ways
so are we
As the gull is to wave tops
endlessly seeking above crests foamy and golden at sunrise
so are we
As the oak leaf is to emerald grandeur
awaiting the final downward drift with gust and gale
so are we
As we each seek our path, yearning above all else to
lock hope away in our hearts
set it free
Allow hope to bloom, to laugh, to soar
at the end
you will pass forth with joy and thanksgiving
filled to everlasting
As we look at others
we should look at ourselves
As we walk in judgement
we should judge ourselves
As we wish for ourselves
we should wish for others
As life is to live
so life be to give
if only to give the gift
of wishing well
A flickering fluttering triangle of wing and body
Colors blurring, wind carrying aloft
During the seeking
Her goal, her sole existence is to feed for growing
To lay eggs for living
To continue the cycle endlessly
Oh, what life to live
Flying on current’s edge
Constantly in hazard’s way
All the while settling onto
Of leaf and petal
Of scent and color
Kissed with dewdrops left by
According to my bell in the upper right hand corner, I have reached 100 followers.
First, I’d like to say thank you. I am humbled by you taking your time to check in on what I might be doing on WordPress.
Second, I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you. When I first came to WordPress, I had no idea there were so many talented people here. If it weren’t for you, this site would not exist.
Thanks again, and best to everyone.
The Challenge of life is to welcome challenge itself, not for ego, not for attention, not for riches, but for the dim glow that grows into brightness, illuminating the person you were meant to be when you were only a small spark in the Heavens.
I saw him staring into the face of someone he never knew
or had no interest in knowing. With his hard eyes he taunted
threatened, and with the tight line of his lips he refused communication.
The facts were there, but he chose to look
The truth was within him, but he would not hear.
The small, still voice begged to be heard
the face of honesty and honor wished to be seen
but fear of what is within blinds those assuming they see all.
Is it already too late? Does hate reign?
Does choosing to separate and divide, looking the other way rather than at one’s self
But who fears … but who fears.
Well, here I am, almost done with another novel. One chapter to go and it will be time for the real work, which is editing. If you’ve ever thought about trying to write something, give it a shot. It’s as rewarding a thing as I’ve ever done. But yes, it can be very hard work. So many things have to work together to make a novel come together well, to fit like pieces in a puzzle, to make it all seem like it was easy to write, when it definitely was not.
If you haven’t heard the terms ‘pantser’ and ‘plotter,’ now you have, and I am a pantser, which means, loosely, that I write ‘by the seat of my pants.’
What it really means, at least to me, is I write without anything except the most general outline, which, for the most part, is in my head. I come up with a premise, a main character, and other characters. Then I let the premise, as well as the conflict, carry me forward, while allowing the characters, who can become as genuine to me as people I know, whisper their secrets, telling me who they are, what is in their past, both good and not so good, and finally, what their fondest wishes are.
Still journeying onward while attempting to meet the challenge of having a published work on the shelves one day.
Wouldn’t that be something?
When the grenade exploded, he never knew what hit him. The blast lifted him off his feet, hot shrapnel ripped his young body, and he fell. The snowy ground received him, wrapped him in a blanket of quiet, and except for the sound of blood gurgling in his own throat, the woods were silent.
Time stopped, a snowflake hung in mid-air, and at that very moment he wanted nothing more than to take it in his palm and watch it melt away, its soul transforming with death.
He blinked once, twice, and she called to him, I have to believe I’ll see you again, I have to believe I’ll see you again, I have to believe …
Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude, what else is there?
When ears hear, but do not process, they are deaf. When eyes look, but do not see, they are blind.
Life is a fairly simple challenge. Live and let live, respect each other, and for peace and harmony, don’t break the law. If we do the first two, the third takes care of itself.
When perspective is a scarce as it is, it’s too bad we can’t swap bodies for a while.
When ego drives a person, honesty is not within them.
When the desire to improve one’s self is left behind for the desire for personal gain, all is definitely lost.