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  1. Pick Your Own Title

    Ebony eyed,
    raven black hair
    curled to the shoulder
    next to his ear

    Prominent nose
    modest dark beard
    neatly surrounding
    a friendly wide smile

    Flawless white teeth
    invites conversation
    discussions debates
    critics contention

    His sense of humor
    flows on all levels
    sophomoric, cerebral
    silly and rye

    Doubters, complainers
    jesters and true
    hearted companions ...
  2. Social Frustrations-

    aka- why I haven't been around here.

    I've been meaning to come by, to post, etc yadda, yadda, yadda. Things have just kept happening IRL that keep me from doing what I really want.

    Some days i wish I could check out of life completely, ignore everyone, and just focus on my writing, or forum or blog posting. life has a way of creeping in and saying "Nope, you can't do that."

    At least my cat Athena is finally fixed and declawed making her an even happier ...

    Updated Today at 12:25 AM by MzSnowleopard

  3. You couldn't MAKE it up.

    And if you could, you sad bastard. Joking of course.

    Yesterday, after dinner, I took my last Glucosamine tablet. I had been sure that when bought them I'd bought two tubs together and that I'd got a fresh lot waiting to be opened but I hadn't and so, earlier today, I logged into the online suppliers website to place an order and made a complete horlicks of it. I don't want to join their club. I don't to register, have an account, whatever. I just want to buy some glucosamine tablets. ...

    Updated March 22nd, 2018 at 06:45 PM by dither

  4. Choosing the road

    I'm thinking about being homeless. I'm wondering about the lifestyle. Oh, to be a Bo, a vagrant , a Vagabond! - with just me and the freedom of the open road; a sack tied to the end of my stick!

    Maybe I was born that way, but have just been in denial? You know, it's so shameful and all that. Why, just the other day I tried not bathing for one night. You know that Chinese saying about 'He, who goes to bed with itchy butt..."?
    Well... Anyway, I'd probably fail at homeless, ...
  5. Le sigh...

    It seems as though two of my previous blog posts have been erased from public view this month.

    I'm not sure if that's like a record?

    At this point I'm at a loss for anything substantial to blog about.

    I just applied myself to the thingamawhatsit called National Poetry Writing Month. I figure it will be an excuse to force myself to think creatively, if nothing else.

    I'm tired of entering creative writing challenges, so now I'm judging them. ...
  6. The Future

    by , March 19th, 2018 at 03:15 AM (Scraps of Who I am)
    Shadows flee
    sun-dressed streets, but

    naked skin blisters in
    deep freeze
    and polar winds

    never before seen or felt.

    Our tears become icicles
    we chip away at
    so we might speak gnarled words
    between breaths through
    frozen lips.

    We hunger, not for food,

    but for a mouthful of death
    that we might swallow its warm comfort

    in this no man’s wasteland. ...
  7. Through and Thoreau

    More and more often, it's just too much. The "it" being everything, life in general. There is no flavor or color. Just survival. The only joy is the absence of pain. And "too much" is a relative term. Sure, I can put up with more, and more... and more. I just really don't feel like it anymore.

    This week was bad. Not the worst on record. Just more.

    I want less.

    I often imagine what it was like to live like Henry David Thoreau. ...
  8. And goodbye again.

    Well, Gertie and her top 25 are not going to happen, here or anywhere else as, because of someone who misinterpreted my previous post, I feel like I have to leave again. I'm not going to walk on eggshells for anybody.

    So, unfortunately, I won't be doing top 25s here or anywhere else. And even my memoirs of my mother are going to have to be limited to the two chapters I've posted so far. I was going to post the third entry tomorrow but now that isn't going to happen.
  9. The Broken Crown (1.2)

    Chapter 1

    Freya began to walk through the forest, making sure to avoid puddles on her way. She came across a small merchant’s stall in the woods. He was selling food and Freya hadn’t eaten in a day, so she went over to him.
    She bought a bag of biscuits and stuffed one in her mouth. The merchant’s eyes widened with amusement when he saw her eat it in one bite. “Woah there! You must be hungry.”
    Freya turned at him and smiled. “Well, I guess so.”
    She gave him the money ...
  10. Beautiful Sunsets

    The bosses' red Don't Walk emoji halts me
    in mid- We are the champions - which I always find difficult, to hit that right note-
    "We---!" - Is it one note/two notes? being that the artist is always driven to try to insert his own ego/make it his own. Always. Even when the tune is borrowed.

    I go with two, and immediately see my mistake by the reaction of my fellow side-walkers, those around me- that that is not a good choice, so I add a plié and then left/foot-forward, ...

    Updated March 15th, 2018 at 08:32 PM by Kevin

  11. Who would be interested in a personal top 25 albums list?

    Okay, I guess I should preface that I have a blog somewhere in the, uh, blogosphere. I can't really advertise that here, nor would I want to.

    But, basically, at the music forum I was at, I was working on a top 25 albums list for every year from 1955-2017. I managed to get up to 1966 before the atmosphere was too toxic for me to continue at that forum. I then came up with the brainstorm of doing the list on a blog in the voice of my favorite protagonist, Gertie Strawberry. I wish Schrody ...
  12. Writer's block

    I'm having bit of Writer's block on starting Chapter 2 of my story. Maybe today will be a break day where I have short sparks of writing if I have the motivation to do so. Usually, when it comes to writer's block, just take it easy. Maybe I'll even find some inspiration.
  13. Chapter 1 of The Broken Crown (1.1)

    Chapter 1
    The sun shone through the forest right between all the trees.
    Freya walked through the forest as her blond hair flowed in wind and her jacket hung loosely off her shoulders. Her sword, which she had placed in its scathe, swayed on her left leg.
    Her jacket was adorned with an official bounty hunter pin. Her boots had bright red laces, which was a direct contrast to the rest of her black boots. Her hair was done in a ponytail, and her blue eyes shone a little brighter ...

    Updated March 13th, 2018 at 08:02 PM by _Koriko_

  14. Hidden tomb

    Follow down the golden path,
    'tween the trees that always laugh,
    passed the singing daffodils,
    into fields of swallowed pills.
    Upon the stage I wait and wait,
    'till the day you push the gate,
    through open stone of memory,
    at the end you'll surely see,
    this glass tomb that you built,
    where my body softly wilts.
  15. Expectations

    by , March 12th, 2018 at 01:03 AM (Scraps of Who I am)
    You tell me how
    to draw a perfect square
    a perfect circle or

    a line stretched straight
    between two erect poles
    neither of which will bend

    but perhaps
    you ask for the impossible

    my art has no way
    of knowing those

    nor have I the skill
    to learn things

    that are driven by
    a demand for

    (c) Neetu
    Tags: poetry
  16. Carchoon

    How's it going?
    What 'it'?
    Your life, your self, your day.
    How can I answer that?
    Okay, nothing horrible happened.

    Character-caricature of myself , I see Porky Pig or Elmer Fudd, stutterers and/or otherwise mangler/mispeakers. Idiot/savant without the savant part?
    I yam what I yam,
  17. Life eh?

    I suppose, I ought to think myself lucky:

    Many years ago, I was a smoker and, like many, had many failed attempts at giving it up. Then, because of being incapacitated with a leg injury, my smoking got heavy, not quite to chain-smoking proportions but I was well on my way and then, completely out of the and totally unexpected, I suddenly realised that I hadn't smoked for a couple days. I actually got sick of smoking. The doc reckoned that I had unintentionally put my self through something ...

    I hit 50k words, first time I've ever hit that! But My novel is now in the process of being drafted and I'm close to making my $7mill from it. This is exciting!!!

    Updated March 11th, 2018 at 08:45 PM by CrimsonAngel223

  19. Poems for a fairy novel.

    A father's spell.

    Red, blue, gold and green,
    threads I bind remain unseen,
    hide my daughter from his eyes,
    until the day that my hope dies.

    Yellow, brown, silver, pink,
    give her all the time to think,
    as he searches high and low,
    steady time's gentle flow.

    Orenge, peach and indigo,
    please disguise her inner-glow,
    fade into the setting sun,
    'til Shadow lord's fun be done.

    Slumber of a Fairy Queen.

    Updated March 11th, 2018 at 01:16 AM by H.Brown

  20. guitar man

    for years a guy use to play a cardboard cut out guitar in the city an on the radio it reported he died in a nursing home an people clubbed in to send his body home to be buried with his parents...this guy was around for years an summit of a liverpool icon...just two stories..on someone stopped and said your playing that all wrong an he replied one of me strings has snapped and someone said i've got a pen here...billy butler a local radio presenter asked him how was he doing and he said someone put ...
  21. I feel like staring a movement

    Hello guys, yes this is my first blog post, I am thinking of starting a movement, particularly a poetic one. Also I've never done anything like this before, I want to say thanks for reading and commenting on my work. I want to be the greatest poet of the 21st century and I hope one day reach that goal getting Nobel Prizes, Pulitzer's, Etc. But mostly to be Poet Laureate one day.

    Have a good day everyone.
  22. Clever Architecture

    by , March 9th, 2018 at 04:57 PM (Scraps of Who I am)
    We did not make
    a pact to die
    though eons have passed
    and we live as if dead

    in a hollowed-out grave
    upon which stand pillars
    of a tomb
    that deceives passers by

    without a thought, you assume
    it to be a
    well-designed house.

    (c) Neetu

    Updated March 13th, 2018 at 07:44 AM by Neetu

    Tags: poetry
  23. Send in the Clouds

    I see a mouse
    in the grey bellied clouds
    the wind blows
    mouse becomes a rat
    billows pass above me
    ears begin to spread
    advance the rat to possum
    ten and ten seconds eastbound
    cumulus mash potatoes
    possum charms the dove
  24. Longing of dreams.

    I feel the empty place inside,
    a place where you could live 'n' thrive.
    Wishing for the day that I find,
    a bright, familiar inquiring mind.
    To gaze upon your fragile form,
    encased inside a mother's warmth.
    Looking deep into eyes like mine,
    my heart it soars to hear, 'she's fine.'
    With each beat of your tiny heart,
    I lose myself, we'll never part.
    Dreams sweet edge casts me free,
    to wake and find there's no little me.

    Updated March 8th, 2018 at 11:58 PM by H.Brown (revision.)

  25. Feeling I get when look to the west...

    Chem-trails, nGod's puppetry, telling me,
    pulling my heart strings, pulling my leg
    my knee-jerk sympathies and anger,

    Your legs are nice. I conceptualize you as a goddess. You are penultimate. I love your pedestals...
    Can't we all get along? I didn't mean you were crazy, but what are we to believe? I don't have any definitive proof. Okay, I give up.

    Yes... (ahem) (is this thing on?)
    I hereby... renounce Satan.
    My confirmation ...
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