do the tree frogs always sound like this? so peaceful but also so afraid, barking in some sort of unison, humans cannot even begin to try and understand.
an ant asks "are aardvarks awesome as well" a blue bear barks back, "can't tell. don't know that expression."
"ok well that was so helpful" the ant ever so sarcastically replies, only to be eaten by the bear when it eats the berry the ant had taken as a lounge chair.
the seasons pass so quickly by, as do all of the countable days and many of the opportunities that may somehow come my way. somehow i manage to miss all of them, distracted by my current project that keeps towing me down. i have no horizon to look onto and here i am in some not so quick sand, waiting for someone to throw me a line or an easy way out.
the words come so much more easily now. i find myself so motivated to write and write, like a lightning bolt shocked me through and through, spreading the creativity around. it was once stuck in my brain but now i can only feel it rapidly coursing through my veins. it can give me some form of life that i never felt before, i'm on top of the world and no one can ever stop me with a block again.
that is, until i reach a plot hole.
the darkness is back and those few moments of clarity, are just going to go back to being simple mundane day dreams.
Ooh, I love #55 and #58 - both incredibly concise in conveying something that feels quite profound.
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
if i could only write about two things, it would be for all the food in the world and the religion that belongs to me, for i no longer see anything at all in you.
five pies sit cooling in a window sill. a crow quickly flies by, making an exclamation about the lovely, lovely pies. he thinks about the danger and checks on his will, then quickly jumps through the window and into the kitchen, to get his fill.
troops set off from martinsburg in west virginia, young boys with no desire to fight their neighbors. but their congress had spoken and now they had to go, and fight their sworn enemy down in winchester.
for reference of this poem: Martinsburg, WV and Winchester, VA are about 25 miles apart. Winchester has quite a few battlefields and was an important Confederate holding because it was 15 or so miles from the border of WV. The closeness also meant they would have the access from there to the B&O railroad and the C&O canal. Those are just extra facts. The point of this poem is that the people fighting in portions of WV/VA were literally neighbors and sometimes relatives. That's part of what happened to my family.
aw yes. mixed religious and civil war poetry. get ready for this new theme.
standing at potomac, looking from shore to shore. the generals call and ask if we can fight a bit more. but our feet are torn and bloody, we do not know where to go. so i will stand here at the potomac, and wait for a heavenly call from you.
all the sparkles and glitter in the world, can't get you into heaven. no matter how blinding your thousand dollar skirt is, it's still not worth as much as a kind heart and the thoughts that pass through the head of a good person.
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