leaves, twigs and birds
through closed curtains
morning’s shadow play
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leaves, twigs and birds
through closed curtains
morning’s shadow play
by PMu Ink
Domenic Garisto/havau22.com / IF YOU CAN'T BE THE POET, BE THE POEM (David Carradine) LIFE IS NOT A REHERSAL,SO LIVE IT.
Flash fiction tales of humor, horror and whimsy
One Poet's Writing Practice
My thousand lines..
Where Legends Live in Words. A Digital Art & Poetry Wordpress By Linda J. Wolff
..... Just ....... Haiku .....
Non-factional opinion, fiction, poetry and occasional humour
法医学的民族音楽学: Forensic Ethnomusicologist
Writing prompts! Mining your brain for creative ideas since 2016 . . .
Haiku, Tanka, Formal and Free Verse
one post at a time
A Journal of English Senryu
An eclectic mixture of personal essays, stuff about writing, stuff about books and far out philosophy from an old baggage in a book-tower.
Strength in Mind, Body, and Spirit.
Painting with words
Reblogged this on richwrapper and commented:
This man moves words about a page with grace and wit and great undershot humor that has muchly not changed but for the better since 1968 and ‘9. His movies are free for the reader to imagine. Thanks, Bruce!
As usual you are extremely charitable to me… I promise to find you a place on the Left Coast when Florida submerges
Same-same in Tagolog for whence your side of Saint Andrea slips. Our loquats run riot and tonight I risk a late raid on a for-sale house at which once I took “tea” with mom and brothers when society called. She even wore those funny white gloves that quit before the snot-wiping wrist level: why wimmin do dat? Spoil the utility of gloves that way?
It’s the little decorative soaps that drive me nuts. Why such knicknackeries that defy utility?