pleasant summer day: city-dwellers look up, and watch clouds drift.
Above the City [Haiku]
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DAILY PHOTO: The Brown Danube
PROMPT: Lazy Days
Rested. Definitely. I believe one has to think of rest and recovery as part of the process of living. If one thinks of it as just wasting time between “doing things,” then one isn’t going to get the most out of body and mind.
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Monsoon Autumn [Haiku]
autumn afternoon: swollen clouds cut the light, it looks like sundown.
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O Captain! My Captain by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red!
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here, Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that one the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores! and sing, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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DAILY PHOTO: Bratislava Blue Skies
Hulk Limerick
There was an Anger Management counselor who, truth be told, was kind of an amateur. His schedule planner didn't know the name "Banner." So, for his new place, he hired a nerd.
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PROMPT: Successful
Daily writing prompt
When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?
Diogenes [of Sinope] and – also – Drukpa Kunley. Each of them spoke his mind, lived by his own rules, never wore a mask, and could not be controlled. They were truly free.
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In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 