#poetry #poem #leefirefly #prose #poetrycommunity #poemsforyou #writing #quotes #literature
#prose
#poetry #poem #prose #connection
Totally random, while at a ranch last week helping recover from storm damage was inspired power of wind gusts and still windy observing noisy roar drowning out voices as if wind blew away spoken words, laughingly so (while safe); scratched this little ditty about this situational phenomenon and missed connection, or taken deeply, can be perceived metaphorically with wind representing life’s chaos and whirl and missing moment(s)…
https://dcampbellrf.medium.com/words-in-the-wind-2dd0e62ec29d?sk=4086ff3ade843227d3ff4fa516439898
📖🇮🇹💝 How I know the book I'm listening to is genuine-human crafted: The whole of the plot takes place in a small town in Italy, across the book there are 10 phrases in Italian inserted in the conversation to make the prose more believable, one of occasions is the waiter asking a women in the restaurant if she'd prefer "vino or cerveza"?
Reading a #prose #poem about #sealevel rise and the #Paleoaucilla at the Blue Tavern in #Tallahassee. #spokenword #paddling https://youtu.be/6E9W8EsoaFs
Ich bin bei 'ner #KMU mit ca. 🍑 Beschäftigten. Die Offenheit gegenüber #freeSoftware usw. ist ziemlich groß, auch beim Chef. Trotzdem haben Sales u.a. gerade den Umsturz von #Jabber zu MSTeams durchgesetzt. Entwicklungsabteilung darf aber bei #XMPP bleiben. Puh!
Argumente waren:
1. Kunden sind bei Teams.
2. Kein guter Client für Windows. #Prose von @prose kann noch keine A/V-Calls.
3. Kein Client hat 'ne brauchbare Inbox für mentions. Stimmt leider. Das wäre leicht zu fixen.
Hotel by Masticadoreshotelmasticadoreshouse.wordpress.com@hotelmasticadoreshouse.wordpress.com
2026-01-02«Vultures Above My Heart» by Bianca Alina
«Vultures Above My Heart» by Bianca Alina
Your questions hover over my heart like famished vultures. What is it that you wish to know? Do you want me to confess that I fell in love with you? I didn’t just fall; I have remained in love with you, even as you built walls to shield yourself from my love. I kept on loving you despite the pain your words inflicted upon my heart. You always knew how I felt about you. The passion in my love letters turned you into a sinner long before my hands ever caressed your skin. You longed for that passion. You still seek it in your dreams, where you know you can let it consume you. You loved the way I greeted you every morning and the warmth embedded in every word I spoke, yet you chose to protect your heart while repeatedly wounding mine. And now, when it’s painfully clear that you have chosen a different path, why do you still want to hear me say, «I love you»? Do you truly enjoy breaking my heart? Don’t you realize that I wasn’t meant to nourish your ego but to offer you love in its most genuine form? What else do you want from me? I loved you until the pain became unbearable, and I had to let go. I hope you’re happy now. All your efforts to push me away have borne fruit. Yet, as time passes, you will come to understand that killing a loving heart is one of those things you should never take pride in.
Author’s Bio
Bianca is an enthusiastic reader, and very passionate about poetry. Her soul always seeks poetry, just as the sunflower seeks the sun.She wrote her first poem when she was 11, but she wrote with her heart long before she put her thoughts on paper. Her writings can be found on MasticadoresRumanía; Gobblers & Masticadores, or on her personal blog https://fatacusufletdecerneala.wordpress.co
J'aimerais que tu sois là
Toi que je ne connais pas
Tu vis dans mes pensées
Dans mes rêves, dans mon idéal
#prose
The Value of Little Things by #WilliamCutter.
What if the little rain should say,
"So small a drop as I
Can ne'er refresh the thirsty earth,
I'll tarry in the sky!"
What if a shining beam of noon
Should in its fountain stay,
Because its feeble light alone
Is not enough for day!
Doth not each rain-drop help to form
The cool refreshing shower?
And every ray of light to warm
And beautify the flower?
To venerate the simple days by #EmilyDickinson.
To venerate the simple days
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs but to remember
That from you or me
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!
To invest existence with a stately air,
Needs but to remember
That the acorn there
Is the egg of forests
For the upper air!
The River and the Tree by #MargaretESangster.
"You are white and tall and swaying," sang the river to the tree,
"And your leaves are touched with silver—but you never smile on me;
For your branches murmur love songs to the sun-kissed turquoise sky,
And you seem so far above me that I always hurry by!"
"You are laughing in your shallows, you are somber in your deeps,
And below your shining surface there's a heart that never sleeps;
But all day you pass me, dancing, and at evening time you dream,
And I didn't think you liked me," sang the birch-tree to the stream.
So they got a bit acquainted on a glowing summer day,
And they found they liked each other (which is often times the way);
And the river got so friendly, and it ran so very slow,
That the birch-tree shone reflected in the water down below!
The Brook by #AlfredTennyson.
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
The Stone in the Road by #JohnEdwardEverett.
Up hill, with heavy load,
A farmer's wheels turned round;
A stone was in the road,
At which the farmer frowned.
At once, with snap and crack,
The shaft gave way and dropped;
The wagon staggered back,
But struck the stone and stopped.
The stone, frowned on at first,
Now held the wagon fast;
The stone the farmer cursed,
Reclaimed his load at last.
Through life, repeatedly,
The evils help and bless,
And hindrance proves to be
A rock of sure success.
The Crocus's Soliloquy by #HannahFlaggGould.
Down in my solitude under the snow,
Where nothing cheering can reach me;
Here, without light to see how to grow,
I'll trust to nature to teach me.
I will not despair, nor be idle, nor frown,
Locked in so gloomy a dwelling;
My leaves shall run up, and my roots shall run down,
While the bud in my bosom is swelling.
Soon as the frost will get out of my bed,
From this cold dungeon to free me,
I will peer up with my little bright head;
All will be joyful to see me.
Then from my heart will young petals diverge,
As rays of the sun from their focus;
I from the darkness of earth will emerge
A happy and beautiful Crocus!
Gaily arrayed in my yellow and green,
When to their view I have risen,
Will they not wonder how one so serene
Came from so dismal a prison?
Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower
This little lesson may borrow—
Patient to-day, through its gloomiest hour,
We come out the brighter to-morrow!
At School by #RudyardKipling.
They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.
Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few.)
You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods.
But there is no road through the woods.
Self-Reliance by #IdaMcClatchie.
Myself did make my yesterdays,
And this I truly know,
To all my morrows I shall bring
Their store of joy or woe.
Each cup these lips of mine shall drink,
It shall be filled by me;
For every door that I would pass,
These hands must mould the key.
If e'er on yonder shining height,
A larger life I own,
Though throb my brain, though ache my feet,
Its slope I climb alone.
No more along a darkened way,
I, doubting, blindly grope:
No more I shame my soul with fear,
Nor yet with yearning hope.
But knowing this that I do know,
And seeing what I see,
I rest in this great certainty,-
All may be well with me.
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