I think this was a great idea! And difficult.
If you want to read a number of short and inspiring snippets…

Go Dog Go Café

Writing Prompt Tuesday

Christine is known for her writing prompt challenges on her blog Brave and Reckless.  She will be hosting a Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge at the Go Dog Go Cafe.  The prompts are designed to be quick challenges that can be written in 10 to 15 minutes,  inspire you creatively, are fun, and get everyone interacting.  Please post your response to the prompt in the comments below and show your fellow posters some love and support.  All members of the Go Dog Go community, including Baristas, are welcome to participate.  Feel free to share this post on your own blogs and/or Facebook.

Christine is always looking for cool, quick writing prompts.  If you have a great idea for a future Tuesday prompt challenge, send it to her at christine.e.ray@gmail.com

Today’s prompt

Autobiographical Ten Word Story: Tell us your life story (or a part of your life story) in ten words

View original post

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge

a little fun or something

There has been a lot on my mind lately. And before that, also. And, no doubt, before that. And then, for a while before that, not so much, because I had the flu really badly and I was just annoyed more than anything.

I have had different things I wanted to write about. But then my mind wandered, as it does, especially when I am hungry, and I found myself remembering the first time I read Jack Handey quotes. In a little store in Missouri, USA. Twenty plus years ago.
I laughed so hard I forgot I was on this planet for a moment, with all of its bad news infested bad newsiness. And as there seems to be so much of that lately, my mind returned to that happy place. So if you need to join me there for a moment, you are most welcome. These are for you (well, if I am honest, mostly for me, really. But I hope you can enjoy them too).

Also, I can’t remember why I titled this “profile”. There was a really good/pertinent/profound/moving reason for it, but you know, I am hungry.


“If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr Brave Man, I guess I am a coward.”

(Oh wait, now I am, maybe, remembering why I called this “profile”.
Moving on…)






Images shamelessly stolen from who knows where exactly?


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



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.

View original post

Let Me Bring You Love

a little fun or something, General bewilderment, personal, prose

David Ruston

So I was merrily going my way along WordPress today, and then I saw a quote, (egads I hear you say)… it reminded me of something that had been on my mind, but wasn’t sure I should divulge.

I live, mostly, in a general state of bewilderment, and it has been such a wonderful surprise to discover the amount of other people on WP in such a state. I feel like we should be stretching out a big picnic blanket and then oohing and aahing over all of the somewhat disgustingly interesting food we would bring out of our baskets. (Just a forewarning…my food will be a perfect candidate for those “Nailed It” comparison posts on social media I never get sick of.) Plus, you will have to be patient with me as I fight urges to hug everyone, which I do constantly when I read your gut wrenching, devastatingly glorious writing.
But I think I am digressing, I’m not sure.

So, darn, I can’t remember what this post was going to be about…
Hopefully this very motivating link will remind me:
Poetic Motivations at Davy D’s blog. (Thanks again Davy.)

Oh yes, whenever I read interesting things about different writers and they start listing their favourite writers and influences, I am reminded of what a vast, empty space my mind can be, with maybe a cute kitten bumbling through every now and then. (Or maybe it’s a very small space, overcrowded by cute kittens, distracting me from not so cute things)…And also because my memory is awful.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to read. It’s just that I have so much trouble focussing, that I honestly haven’t done it very much in recent years. (Plus, any reading I have done has been theological by some rather brilliant friends.) So, I have been rather embarrassed about my neglect, but this quote reminded me of why I have more recently decided that I won’t be. Plus, it was never my goal to sound or read like anyone else.

Ugh, where am I going with this?

I think I have actually found a point…I am more than profoundly moved and inspired by the talent on WordPress. What a wonderfully therapeutic experience it has been. I am so grateful. Plus, you have reminded me of things that were buried, very deeply.

And to my remarkable parents, who are well educated and just plain intelligent.

And I am grateful to an old friend who planted the seed for me to start blogging in the first place. He doesn’t think I should give him any credit. (Maybe it’s because he has read my stuff hahaha.) But I am grateful to him more than I can ever say. In fact, through all of the years I have known him, he has busted out a few insightful things that have really helped me. He most likely doesn’t even remember. It doesn’t matter.

Anyway, I know I have said this before, but thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

Insecurities and other such fun things…


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…

View original post 37 more words

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.

View original post 237 more words

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…

View original post 378 more words

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…

View original post 82 more words



Thanks Melissa. This is beautiful.

Wallflower Blossoming

Have you ever listened to a piece of music that was so perfect that it gave you chills every time you heard it?  The song “Bring Him Home” by The Piano Guys is one of those pieces of music. (Link below.) I could listen to it a thousand times over and never fail to hear the yearning and passion in every note.

Did you also know that this kind of music has the power to change even the most stressful moments into an atmosphere of peace?  Let me share an example.

The other day, I was taking the bus to run an errand.  As I got on, there was a mother and her teenage daughter just in front of me.  One of the passes didn’t work and an argument started up between the driver and the mother.  I could hear them talking loudly, tempers rising, as I climbed up the…

View original post 279 more words

The Power of a Song

Poetry, reblog

Look what my talented new blogging friend did. Amazing what some people can do when you just toss a random word their way!


hands in the garden

A poem based on the word suggestion, “restore” from fellow WordPress blogger saynotoclowns. You can check out her page at https://saynotoclowns.wordpress.com/author/saynotoclowns/. Thank you for the suggestion and I hope you enjoy the composition. 🙂

abstiencemonth three, vice free

clarity restored:

insignificant and bored.

© Anthony Gorman 2017

image: http://thewritepractice.com/the-absurd/

View original post



Thanks to Heart to Soul being my latest follower, I read this beautiful poem she wrote! It deserves to be shared!


She emerged out as warrior,. She never wanted to be a queen,. She was a beautiful poem,. Incomplete,unheard and unseen.

She wore her pain like high heels,. And walked towards her passion,. She cried in the night under her palms,. Yet, she is a marvelous temptation.

She again smiles the next morning,. As if she never cried last night,. She is a one man army,. Famous for love and known for fight.

She stands tall,in front of all,. Provides everybody with love and care, You may find a million girls, But a women like her is very rare.

She dances between the heart and brain,. Demanding for the right & forgiving the wrong. Now she has become difficult to sing,. She was a poem now transformed into song.

View original post



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…

View original post 58 more words

Soul stirring music


This brought me to my heart’s knees! For those of you who haven’t read it yet, this is how I feel about WordPress. Thank you for these divine words, Mark.


my miscellaneous thoughts and creativity

You were born, my god.

One day you learned the sounds,

you vocalized your need.

You grew, you played, you fell.

You wrote curvy words in school.

Something happened, maybe once.

It may have been chronic,

it may have been enough

to change you forever.

It may have been enough

to push you off the edge.

You may have seen the blood,

you may have kissed

a cold face, for the last time.

You may have offered everything,

you may have emptied yourself.

And there you stood

with the tangled mess

of imaginary paths and

muddled memories, consuming you.

Your anguish was killing you,

but your face buried it alive.

You were numb.

But, you were born again, my love.

One day, a soul sat by you, and

cracked your shell.

Another clenched your mind.

Later, another ravaged your pain.

Such succulent words they devised.

You were not alone.


View original post 222 more words

I Liked Your Poem

reblog, Uncategorizable


I’ve shared Steve’s work before, but if you missed it last time, check him out. I love his work. It’s unique and intriguing and beautiful. Plus, he’s funny.

inconstant light


Colors round the clock
and I await the pale hour,
cohesive integration.
I listen     beat     my heart     breathe     my breath,
call dullness meditation,
by contrast grey becomes another shadow.

pink anodic glows
I flew to other times in zones,
tinted suns, ascendant vectors,
daylight saving lost,
neon tubes with unequilibrated
electron swarms,
their flickering hypnotics in gaudy

View original post 138 more words

what I meant to say

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…

View original post 564 more words

Whilst Sitting In The Park, I Discovered True Love