11:30

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m still awake. Up until two weeks ago this might not have been worthy of mentioning, but habits indeed change. I have a work interview at 8 am tomorrow. I should be snug as a bug in my bed. It’s so quiet in the house right now. with the lights having all […]

More

It’s happened

Some of you might not understand what I’m feeling, I think. Not at all to say that I’m unique, or that I’m set apart in my experiences and perspective. No. I think I feel like I’ve joined the ranks. Sometimes when I lie in my bed, in the dark, I start to remember faces and people, […]

More

To be a Poet Laureate

My poetry always ends up sounding like something out of a yet to be discovered Shell Silverstein book. I read Where the Sidewalk Ends, when I was little, not Robert Frost, and my young mind appears to have soaked up every bit and stored it away. I feel like I have some sort of bizarre, […]

More
"I believe that we are who we choose to be. Nobody's going to come and save you, you've got to save yourself. Nobody's going to give you anything; you've got to go out and fight for it. Nobody knows what you want except for you. And nobody will be as sorry as you if you don't get it. So, don't give up on your dreams."

Home again Home again, jiggity jig

There’s a window in our kitchen that faces North. Our kitchen is painted an aquamarine turquoise, with one Tuscan yellow wall. The window frame is wooden, and is painted white. On a shelf on one side a Christmas present from seven to eight years ago has stretched it’s modest vines from its tiny ceramic pot […]

More
Fly not yet! the fount that played, In times of old, through Ammon's shade, Though icy cold by day it ran, Yet still, like sounds of mirth, began

To burn when night was near;

And thus should woman's heart and looks At noon be cold as winter brooks, Nor kindle till the night, returning, Brings their genial hour for burning.

O! stay-O! stay -

When did morning ever break And find such beaming eyes awake

And those that sparkle here!

>Thomas Moore I wonder how it could have felt to be the Muse of such an attention. I found this poem in a chocolate bar. I love it.