Friends I’ve Never Met

Penny Wilson Writes

I’ve been blogging off and on now for 6 plus years.  In that time, I’ve seen bloggers come and go.  I’ve done the same thing.  There has been times when my blog went cold for months and at other times I’ve written every day.

If you spend much time on WordPress, you get to know a person’s writing style.  There are bloggers I seek out, if I don’t happen to see them in my Reader Feed, because I especially enjoy their blog.

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The Baby Hummer Who Crashed Into Glass!

https://cindyknoke.com/2013/08/01/the-baby-hummer-who-crashed-into-glass/
Awesomeness in action. I love Cindy’s pictures and words. Her blog is a little bit of Heaven.

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While busy reading your blogs, there was a very loud thwanking noise on the French doors next to me. I got up to see what it was and there was a juvenile hummingbird on the ground about 6 inches from the door. He was trembling violently and his right-wing was fully extended as if broken. I immediately closed one of your blogs (sorry about that) and googled what to do with a hummingbird who hits a window and breaks a wing. There was all sorts of advice from, “forget it he’s a goner,” to “pick him up and put his beak into the feeder,” to “pick him up and put him in a shoebox with a soft cloth and take him to an animal rescue provider.”
I didn’t like any of these suggestions. A juvenile hummingbird weighs less than a dime. I am like Gulliver the giant in the land…

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Wildflowers

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

11

The breeze in my face is sweet
and it tastes like the ocean in my lungs
although it’s not.
Then again, it really is because
that’s what it tastes like to me.
Freedom is a wildflower growing
where ever the wind blows her seeds,
in a garden or in an empty field.
Freedom tastes like the ocean
and looks like wildflowers
and freedom…she dances
with the confidence of seventeen.

Jeanne Marie, 2019

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Artistic Insights #writephoto

tales told different

Maybe you can show me
Maybe then I can know
Why my spirit wails
Why I feel tired
Worn by the trials of this life
Why I can’t see the good
Without remembering the bad
Maybe if you try
You can show me who I am

1940 Joan Miro

Paint me
Colour my soul
Curve out all emotion
Weave your hand and splay my essence
Draw deep
Show my sparkle and shade my gloom
Turn me round, see it all
Joys and despairs
Displayed

artnet

Gray abstract artist
Dispassionate in your ways
Perceptive to all
Crafting cubes with multiple views
Deep fears and aching desires

Sean Safarlou

My soul falls upon the canvas
Now I can see through the rain
Now I can see me

“The rain blinds while clearing sight” 6word story


I hope you enjoy this,

For;

Reena’s exploration challengecubism
Sue’s writephoto promptworn

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Blindside

Heartstring Eulogies

“Is it too much to ask for a little
courage to know, without a doubt,
that everything is okay?
That is the courage I need.”

This was the moment that would make me. Or it would break me. I wasn’t sure, but it felt like I was doomed from the start. Even now, years later, I’m still waiting for that shoe to drop. For this world to come crumbling down and leave me broken on my knees in surrender. So I look up at all those shimmering lights in the night sky and beg for a little solace. For the briefest of moments when all feels right in the world. Is it too much to ask for a little courage to know, without a doubt, that everything is okay? That there’s no demons of mine waiting to blindside me? That is the courage I need.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

And…

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She’s Still Alive

I looked in the mirror this morning

and the woman who once loved you

looked back at me.

I thought she died.

I tried to kill her literally, emotionally

and in every way possible because

I don’t want love that hurts.

I looked in the mirror this morning

and the woman who once loved you

looked back at me.

She’s still alive.

Guest Author: Mark Bierman ~ Vanished

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Today I wish to take some time to promote my novel, Vanished. Now, I must be honest with you, I never thought I’d write a story about human trafficking

 How it all began and why:

My father was a building contractor and had been to the impoverished nation of Haiti a number of times. He would assist with the construction of homes, churches, and a few other projects. His return meant amazing stories and disturbing photos of tiny shanties where families lived, in cramped quarters, without running water or electricity.  In fact, often, there were open streams of raw sewage that ran close to these squalid huts.

In October of 2010, my brother-in-law accompanied my father to decimated post-earthquake Haiti. Yes, you guessed it, another construction project.

“Oh, take a journal with you and write in it every day,” I instructed them. “I want to write an article for…

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MAY THE LIGHT NOT GROW DIM

Much time has passed since I came to this place
I hear names I know but the people have gone
I remember times past and the peace I knew then
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old

I hear names I know but the people have gone
There in the sioil my ancestors lie
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old
But is it too late for my time will soon come

There in the soil my ancestors lie
Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
Is it too late for my time will soon come
The party is over and everyone’s gone

Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
For the lives that were lived and the deeds that were done
The party is over and everyone’s gone
But the place is not empty for my memory lives on

For the…

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lines I never wrote ~

tornadoday

openbook2

from time to time
I reminisce
o’er lines
I never wrote
truths I dared not share
tho no less true
longing spilled to pages
meant for gentle eyes –
an open heart
with space enough
for two

worthless rhyme
you know me now –
with nothing
left to say
poems stacked in boxes
cupboards tight
love betrayed to silence
grieves the dying word –
an empty page
and evermore
to write

. . .

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Full Moon Rises

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Soul wanders
through the darkness
searching for your light.
It floats blind and lost
searching behind
the  stars each night.
Heat remembered
frustrates and
fuels the fire.
Full moon rises
sparking rebellion,
tears and desire.
I want! I want!
soul screams out
to the empty night.
Its over. It’s over.
Must be accepted
by each daylight.

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For Jodie Lynne, my daughter…

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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I am God’s flower.
I am petals swaying in the wind
soaking up the dew drops
while the sunshine kisses my skin.
I am God’s flower.
Do not pick me.
Do not crush me.
God created me just as I am.
I am His flower.

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Yes, I Do

I spent half my life making rules and asking people to follow them, disappointed when they didn’t.
I spent half my life cleaning when I could have played with my children, but, I didn’t.
I let time slip away, let people drift out of my life, moments I should have treasured but, I didn’t.
I let problems weigh me down, things that  didn’t even matter the next day.
But, I thought they did.
Now, I treasure every moment, every hug, every butterfly and flower.
Yes, I do.

[Flash Fiction] Remember, Remember, The Fifth of November

Timely…one of my favorites.

Jade M.Wong

“I can’t believe you’re serious about doing this. What if people see you?”

“That’s what the mask is for.” He pointed to the white mask already secured on his face, his identity hidden behind an oversized smile, red cheeks, and a wide black mustache. 

“And if they decide to shoot you first and ask questions later?”

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Reminders

Love this…

Jade M.Wong

Remember not to compare yourself to strangers on the internet. 

Remember not to let the numbers—of likes, of followers, of zeros on a check—make you feel like you are less than, because you are not. You are enough.

Remember your dreams are valid.

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Doing Time…

This was six years ago and my daughter has been sober and free for over four years. Praise God. Looking back from then to now is a thrill and a chill. Amen.

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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I publish tons of personal stuff on my blog, but I wasn’t going to write about my thirty-nine year-old daughter going to prison, not because I’m ashamed of her, but because the hurt is so enormous.
I have made mistakes. Some that will haunt me until the day I die. Everyone makes mistakes. We all pay for our mistakes too, whether it’s through Karma, prison, divorce, broken hearts, family members who never speak to us again or whatever. You don’t have to wait for an official Judgment Day.
I believe that every day on Earth is Karma’s Judgment Day.
My heart has been sliced, diced and pureed, but much of it I can blame on myself and my bad decisions, decisions made from fear and insecurity.
And just when I think that I have bottomed out on heartbreaks, my middle child, who has also made bad choices, gets herself in enough…

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I WISH FOR ANOTHER DAY IN LOVE WITH YOU

Enjoyed working with the Reluctant Poet! His poem, inspired by my picture, is awesome.

The Reluctant Poet

By Jeanne Marie And Charles Robert Lindholm

I Saved The Last Wish For You…
My Darling,
Just Like I Always Do,
Each And Every Night
After My Prayers
THE LAST DANDELION SEED WISH

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Found, Not Lost

From my garden in Florida last February.

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

I slipped into living in the moment Saturday morning. I didn’t plan it and that’s how it happens best.
I bought flowers on Thursday afternoon. On Friday, it was freezing and windy, so I had to leave creating a patio garden around my little trailer for another day.
I picked a bouquet from the hibiscus and the roses, and I spent all day Friday taking pictures.
Saturday morning, when I woke, it was still cold. I peeked outside and I could feel the sun on my face, so I pulled on a warm shirt and long pants and I went outside with my coffee.
Then, I played with the flowers.
As I trimmed and repotted the plants, I fell into my old familiar rhythm.
I started gardening with my mum when I was a toddler and she generously passed on her green thumb to me and to my two sisters.

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