grappled with your verse
making much sense
turned them over in my head
all the things that you’d said
your blue was grey
my yellow faded away
we loved the same
I caressed your name
lost in your prose
how you did it who knows
“we never met” I sigh
I live between your lines
two women poets
changing seasons kept apart
loved the same man
Rush, rush, rush
work, write, shoot
my photos my words are a jumble
a mad snail’s pace
it’s just another phase
in the blogging universe
I recently joined photo crowd where there are some incredible photographers. Why do I do it? I dont know but I’m off to the races for another photo competition
a grey- haired journey
we often stub our toes
rattle our mind for memories
caregiver regular in tow
treasures we seek
but little do we find
into a treasure filled mind
seasons change as you age
digging up treasure
Look into the mind of the elderly there are vast discoveries. Sometimes there is a thin veil covering the expanse. It is worth the effort.
the artist’s eye
no matter the season
merger of shapes
The prompt at Word of the day Challenge is Combine
I glance at a wax-like stare and wonder
I don’t know you but we are the same
you are bearing the same path of sorrow
the one you traverse is etched in pain
I cry knowing that we could have been spared
our world would depend on the magician’s hand
but then there would be no real horror
only what was written by one holding a pen
I’m sorry there is not more I can say
but scribe words of the world we live / lived
I wipe away old tears hoping
that you will outlive the terror as I did
If you were a butterfly would you be friends with a lion???
I didn’t think so.
Personally,I wouldn’t either. We know a lion who saved a butterfly while she was still in her chrysalis and she saw something about him that others didn’t.
Now this butterfly and (domesticated) lion go about the villages of Uganda teaching children.
If you listen closely, you might hear Judah roar. Don’t be afraid it is the only way a lion knows how to laugh.
Join us (Sean and Leslie) in 2019 as we write the story of the world where giraffes and orabi graze and children dance and sing in the village schools of Uganda.