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Fog Line

That frigid night a mile above the fog

On fickle hill the dark crimson night spoke
a language only understood by wafts of cold air. … 49 more words


Week 194 - Musical Interlude: Moon Music

As this week has been a bit rubbish writing-wise, and I will be on a desert island (ish) next week so am pre-planning a holiday blog, I thought I would have a musical interlude week. 200 more words

0>1, Bored in Amsterdam on a rainy day

To open your soul to the whole brings the joy of being to all
So why then do we sit so glum when the mood isn’t upon us? 59 more words


Modern self

I pinch my eyes, looking for disguise
Seeping through my dirty blind, the sun is violent full of pride
Lonely tear travels smoothly, my cheek starts seething, the wound still brooding… 38 more words

In Memory of W.B. Yeats by W.H. Auden

In Memory of W. B. Yeats

W. H. Auden, 1907 – 1973

He disappeared in the dead of winter:
The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted,
The snow disfigured the public statues;
The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day.
427 more words


Why I Write.

Today I wanted to talk about writing. I write in a journal as well as writing a blog. It was always something that I wanted to do when I was little; I would begin but not really continue for very long. 267 more words



I have been stressing lately…ok, not just lately. For the past two months or so I’ve been stressed out about work, about the fact that I’m looking for work closer to home and might have to go back to working outside of education to accomplish that, and about how in the world I’m going to take care of my daughter while doing all of that and stressing too! 334 more words