Daily writing prompt
How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?
When my body says to move, I move. I dance like a puppet on its string.
PROMPT: Unplug
6
Weed Garland [Haiku]
the graveyard weeds
are blossoming in yellow
to garland the tombs.
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Pine & Rose [Lyric Poem]
An evergreen and a red, red rose:
One slowly, but dully, ever grows;
One springs to life only for a short time.
Lifespan pine and beauty rose, apposed?
And risk vice versa? One never knows!
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DAILY PHOTO: Azerbaijan Railways Building
Image
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Spring Pond [Haiku]
the Spring pond
is teeming with tiny fish;
which will see Summer?
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“When I am dead, my dearest” by Christina Rossetti
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dew drops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
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Burning World [Haiku]
bare earth flaming:
fire flickers, leaps, and jiggles,
but never burns out.
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DAILY PHOTO: Bibi-Heybat
This is the replica of a mosque that dates back to the 13th century. The original was built at the behest of Shirvanshah Farrukhzad II Ibn Ahsitan II, and was destroyed by the Bolsheviks when the Soviets took over in the 1930’s. The existing version was built in the 1990’s after the demise of the USSR.
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The Not-So-Distant Sea [Haiku]
the sea isn't far:
somedays you see its slim band;
others, it blends.
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“The Cross of Snow” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [w/ Audio]
In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face -- the face of one long dead --
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head
The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light.
Here in this room she died; and soul more white
Never through martyrdom of fire was led
To its repose; nor can in books be read
The legend of a life more benedight.
There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.
Such is the cross I wear upon my breast
These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes
And seasons, changeless since the day she died.
