a little fun or something, reblog

Today’s German Lesson (Humor)

Egads, this needs to be shared. Hilarious.

Contemplative Moorings

Today we are going to learn some useful, everyday phrases in German. Repeat after me auf Deutsch and then in English.


Hallo. Wie geht es dir?

Hello. How are you?


Mir geht es gut. Danke für die Nachfrage.

I am doing well. Thank you for asking.


Ist das nicht der Tag wunderbar deprimierend?

Isn’t the day wonderfully depressing?


Meine Seele ist schwer mit Bedauern.

My soul is heavy with regret.


Die Liebe ist verwirrend zu dem kleinen Kind aber klar, der Mann auf dem Totenbett.

Love is perplexing to the little child, but clear to the man on his deathbed.


Früher haben wir in den Keller gehen und ziehen Trapeze in der Kohlenstaub.

We used to go down to the basement and draw trapezoids in the coal dust.


Der Supermarkt abgebrannt. Wir verhungern.

The supermarket burned down. We starve.


Bis morgen. Auf…

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Poetry, reblog

So after FFP and I figured out how to share this, because I am a bit share illiterate, and we are staring at our screens wondering where the ‘reblog’ button went…I am giving this a go…

If you are so inclined, click on this. I thought it was a gorgeous piece. And by piece, I mean the poem, as lovely as the artwork is.

(Also, I love that it’s not on Valentine’s Day).


Enigmas like this Don’t come ’round every bend: How best he be told, (In language aptly bold) Of the love, The constant LOVE I have for the storm of him? My impassions brimmed, I aim at words to tell it all, Make other love-claimers ashamed, Inadequate– Though even my claim is not Commensurate To the […]

via Alp — Fitful, Fearful, Phantasmal



A.S. I love you

such a brilliant, thought provoking, and beautiful piece of writing!

Fighting the dying light

I’m the man in the iron cage, the pilgrim with an unrepentant, unyielding heart, the prophet who has regressed into a poet with anguish breaking through bone, and then skin, the tendrils tying my tongue, muting my real howl and creating a soft shriek which they consider beautiful. I’m the Kierkegaardian stereotype, a freak tortured and tormented by his panoramic paranoia, a twisted, fucked up birds eye view of skulls and enemies, of corpses punching keys and hate, and I can’t see a horizon. I’m the label of everyone’s disgust, an animal in an asylum which sensibly speaks, but in alliteration—the zookeeper’s delight. “Look now, here’s Mr. Bipolar. Hysterically jump or flat line, it’s your prerogative, but make sure you entertain, because they’ve paid with their time and energy. Be Quick!” But the more I rattle, the more they rile. The more I lie, the more they cry, until I…

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the detective 2: diegetic mozart

If you’re not reading this series Steve’s started, well, you should. Imho, of course. He’s brilliant. And hilarious. ❤

inconstant light


A detective, his client, the mystery of what lies beyond the quotidian sea, and a marginally relevant precedent.

The sunlight hurts my eyes,
I’m unaccustomed to the lack of walls,
and I miss the certainties
my office prison offered me.

My client gives me glasses, dark,
and thoughtfully plasters zinc cream
on my nose,
but the world is not as I expected.

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Echoes of Purple

One of my favourite parts of this time of year! Thanks for this Raili!

soulgifts - Telling Tales

It’s that time of the year when many of the streets in Adelaide are coloured purple.

As the flowers fall the streets below are carpeted in purple. Simply stunning, the flowering jacaranda is known by students to be the harbinger for end of year exams.

Jacaranda mimosifolia, if grown from seed, can take anywhere from seven to fourteen years before it flowers. For a jacaranda tree to be considered ‘mature’ it is probably twenty years old. They can live up to 75 years and grow as tall as 50 feet.

Interestingly, the jacaranda is not native to Australia. They found their way here from Brazil. However, our climate seems to suit them very well as they thrive here.

©  Raili Tanska

Steps for Peace
Let your eyes feast on the beauty of nature. It feeds the Soul. 

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A Promising Proposition (part 1)

And for something a little different…if you’re interested in some dry commentary along a particular bus route in London, (of course you are), as well as not bus route related material, check this out. (Er this post is not bus related, but this series of events will truly grip you. 😁)

Number 43

I thought I would share an interesting email recently received. I really think that my luck may have eventually changed.


Goodday for today,bearing in mind the nature of the content of this letter coming from a person without any referral, I apologize for any inconvenience, but please read and objectively consider if we can work this together.

I am Razali Nizam, an attorney at law. A deceased client of mine who died as a result of high blood pressure (H.B.P) on the 30th November 2006, because he lost his wife and the only daughter in the 2004 tsunamis natural disaster while on  holiday in Aceh, Indonesia.

I have contacted you to assist in distributing the money left behind by my client before it is confiscated or declared unserviceable by the bank when this deposit valued at $15.5million dollars is lodged. This bank has issued me a notice to contact…

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If your soul’s a little tired with the world burning, this was such a lovely thing to read!

Jerry Brotherton

Let me bring you love from a meadow’s velvet floor; where the grass ripples from a summer’s breath and the bright flowers of purple and gold dance on its gentle wave. Their perfume glides through your childhood memories and heals your wounds.

Let me bring you love from a winter’s night; where the pale moon hangs suspended in a frosted glass sky and the twitching skeletons of lifeless Maples cast bewitching images onto the frozen white canvas.

Let me bring you love from a low fire at midnight; with you safely tucked beneath my blanket and the soft light of the last dying embers dancing smoothly in your eyes, removing all resistance.

Let me bring you love from my last heartbeat…my last breath…my last kiss.

Let me bring you love until my last heartbeat…my last breath…my last kiss.

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Let Me Bring You Love

collaboration, reblog

Unheard Incantations: A Collaborative Poem

I just can’t not share this. Adore.

Go Dog Go Café

The words we cannot say
Will be wept
Into silence between us (CER)

Breathe deep, dear love;
Be still with me
Listen to my heartstrings
A song meant just for you (KMA)

Each tear
An eloquent elegy
To tortured truths (AP)

Each note played
On a hand carved lute
Strung with strips
Of my soul (JWL)

Your breathless aura
Beats in time
Undulating ululation
With my exhaled psyche (AP)

Intertwined, tangled,
Unified: whole
Healed. (JWL)

Yet with hearts torn open
Bleeding out the notes of our song
You turned from me (ME)

I am fire
In desire
I beg
Save me (1W-W)

Fetch me an instrument,
For the untrained ear
Is soothed by that
Which it cannot comprehend. (LEL)

Not everything is black and white.
For even the eclipsed moon
Is not without a little light. (SD)

Whispers through the distance
I remember
As you reach for my…

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Within Her

What a poetry master is Max ❤

Max Meunier

she stepped from the amaranth sky
of eclipsed moon

roseate wreath
wrapped in petaline plight

wandering winds
of familiar requiem

wafting bouquets
bearing dreams deliquescent

long has her linger
allayed my heart’s anguish

surrendered to waves
of an unwitting ardor

peridot drips
into amethyst druse

in these subtle striations
of our intertwining

without her i fold
into prisms of chaos

within her
transpires the depths
of my soul

[image credit: Frantisek Kobliha]

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did you cut yourself on me?

I love Gina’s writing. This so moved me.


I had shared all my favourite songs with him
He trashed them as he walked out the door

You picked up the broken vinyl titles and made me a mix CD
Then sat on my room floor and listened with me

did you see me among those shards?
did you cut yourself on me?

I looked at your bruised fingers
kissed each one and thanked you

you said those broken pieces of me
were now part of you too

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collaboration, reblog

The Weyward Sisters: Back to Black/ Collaborative Amy Winehouse Tribute

How can this not be shared? Awesome collaboration of extraordinary writing.

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Rana Kelly/2nd star to the Left, straight on ’til morning

Oh, Amy

Whenever I go walking

In my stilettos,

I hear you talking.

Dream me up a way

Of swishing my hips

And pursing my lips

And singing your riffs

So that I find beauty

Like you.

lois e. linkens

she puts her black dress on
in the dark,
anxious nails red and messy
in their early-morning artistry.
he left the candle burning
in the winter window –
vanilla and cinnamon
on a Sunday evening,
tears and vodka
on a Monday morning.
last week’s relief
into tonight’s regrets,
but the shadowy smear
on the glass
is all that is left of him.

Aakriti Kuntal/Writings of Aakriti Kuntal

Rummaging through

black air,

nauseous red nails bearing oily seas


existence with conversations,


with glittering nail cutters,

cracked moons

laughing hysterically in them


of fallen boyfriends, of fallen love

Fallen being

the new being


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Oh my goodness, how I love this…

Poet Girl Em

Very carefully

he stepped on the ladder in a display of unbridled uncertainty

in reach of the divine dangling overhead like a jeweled crown

twinkling truth in morse code (he never did learn)

remaining a mystery that he would never solve

like her

the earthbound fearless lover deathly afraid of heights

who can dream bigger than the sky

but never dares

to fly

…there is always some boulder in the path

he won’t climb

some barrier blocking access

he won’t destroy

despite his strength (that he never has used)

wilting chances eroded by time

fruit of opportunity spoiled on the vine

o…here flies her

within grasp but for one step

one more step

how it must feel to see her so close away

so very away

so near

and her

the one that stands out by trying to blend in

because she can’t 


when all the other stars shine, she…

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O…Here Flies Her


Steve weaving his usual and unique magic.

inconstant light


Thought bubbles must be punctured gently,
deflated with a fine molecular needle.


She lets me do the shopping at the markets,
the hens are in my charge, I sweep the floors,
but I’m a prisoner in her house.

On the crooked kitchen shelving, potions bright,
alluring clues, magic herbs and condiments.
To prepare Bahian fish, she says.

Her eyes are jungle camouflage, her tidal laughter
breaks in waves when nothing is amusing,
mysteries are woven in her hair.

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the spells of itapuã


For my dear friends who struggle with this, (and I have too) and for the people who love you, important words so beautifully and honestly expressed.

Strong Humble Warriors

I don’t want to talk.

I need rest.

I need silence.

The thoughts in my mind are overwhelming. They won’t stop. My life is a constant battle of outside voices competing with internal thoughts. It’s too much.

I don’t know how, but I need rest.

I’m lonely, but I can’t silence the storm of thoughts in my mind when another voice is in my ear; so I shut everyone out and feel relieved when they finally walk away.

I don’t mean to hurt feelings, but I need silence.

I don’t want anyone around because the tension that radiates from their discomfort with silence is even worse than being forced to talk.

I know they mean well, but I need rest.

I don’t need to lay down in the sense that it’s been a long day. I need to disappear for a while in the sense that it could be fatal…

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Depression Sucks.


Maria, this is beautiful. Thanks for putting such eloquence to something it’s hard to find words for.



what do the children say
about special relativity?
when they neither had
a space to live and
a time to be free?

when past, present and future
were never in their grasp
when limbs, tears and blood
were all that they have

ask them an equation
they only have one:
the end is equivalent to the
mass of people multiplied by
the square of the speed of bomb

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

In response to dVerse’s Open Link Night hosted by Grace.

This piece is also inspired Bjorn’s prompt at Toads.  The photo above is from Banksy. In 2010, Banksy did another version of his Balloon Girl with a monochrome child, spray-painted on the wall of a private house in Bevois Valley, Southampton, England.

 My heart bleeds for the people of Syria, especially the children. The alleged gas attack from Assad regime in a rebel-held town…

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I can’t help sharing this. I love cello music and these clips are incredible… Thanks so much Raili

soulgifts - Telling Tales

Charley’s  post  over at Crazy Life reminded just how much I love listening to the deep tones of the cello. So I hunted down a few video clips to share with you.

Did you know that the cello’s four strings are tuned in perfect fifths? That’s pretty important in the world of music. Here’s why –

The perfect fifth is the most important interval in tonal harmony… and it is used for tuning string instruments. It is a constituent interval for the fundamental chords of tonal harmony.” Wikipedia

I even found a Finnish cello metal band called Apocalyptica ! The band is composed of classically trained cellists, graduates of the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki,  and a drummer.

 The cello’s low pitch is only beaten by that of the double bass. And here it is for comparison.

March 2017 Soul Gifting goes to Elaine’s Bloggers Paradise for being my…

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Soul stirring music

prose, reblog

If you need a little light right now…
A gorgeous read, thanks Timere 😊

(Edit, Dec, 2017. With heaviness of heart I must add now, that the admins of this blog have simply disappeared from the blogosphere, without a trace. But this post is lovely, and I live in hope that Timere  is safe and well!)

On The Other Side Of Darkness


I was sitting in the park after work yesterday, reading a book and enjoying the weather, when an older couple came toddling up.  They were so adorable.  They were holding hands and giggling together.  He asked if they could share the bench with me and I said, “Absolutely” figuring they wanted to rest for a bit then toddle on.  He took out his kerchief and dusted off the bench for her to sit down.  What a gentleman!

Honestly, watching this couple (out of the corner of my eye so as not to appear creepy or stalkery) was like watching to grey haired, wrinkly teenagers in love.  No, they didn’t grope each other or me.  As they sat there, I just couldn’t help myself, I had to ask “How long have you been married?”  She looked at me with a huge smile and said, “We married the day he got home…

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Whilst Sitting In The Park, I Discovered True Love


The Daily Song: Ordinary World/Joy Williams (Duran Duran)

Brave and Reckless

This haunting cover of Duran Duran’s Ordinary World vibrated through my bones this morning like it contained secret messages about the world, about my life,that I was meant to decode.  Messages of haunting sadness, things lost, inner strength found. What did this stir for you?

Ordinary World

Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue
Thought I heard you talking softly.
I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio
Still I can’t escape the ghost of you
What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some’d say,
Where is the life that I recognize?
Gone away
But I won’t cry for yesterday, there’s an ordinary world,
Somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way, to the ordinary world
I will learn to survive.
Passion or coincidence once prompted you to say
“Pride will tear us both apart”
Well now pride’s gone out the…

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Something else I can’t not share. Profoundly moved by this…by the gorgeous heart of Phoebe. Thanks for sharing your beauty sweet Doctor 😍

Musings of PuppyDoc

within counterfeit fibers
of a petrified forest
are your sorrows
weighed with silt,
swallowed by shadows
of its own valley,
silenced beneath
the porcelain surface
of a visage pristine.

Banish them.
Let your tears cathartic
these cheeks of mine.
Scour them with scars
of an ancient past
of an ache relived.
Let me bear the dusk
until from the womb,
emerged pure as
the morning dew,
is our love renewed.


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