A Girl by Ezra Pound

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child – so high – you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

For: Nurt Thurs – Perfect Candidate

Prompt 93 – Finding Peace


Finding my peace
Got to remain as one piece
It’s inside me
The key is being free
No pressure
It’s normal to err
With pure heart
That’s a good start
Count my blessing
Every day I could sing
Accept what life brings
Do my best, on what springs

The oasis of serenity
When everything’s at peace
When I can breathe again
The joy of being here
The freedom I feel
Of love and happiness

(c) ladyleemanila 2016


For: Prompt 93 – Finding Peace

Flash Fiction Challenge: I LOVE… SOMETHING!!!

a new challenge for everyone!!! 🙂

Dan Alatorre

00love 1.jpgLast week we did hate; this week we’ll do love.


But that’s as easy as it gets, gang.

(Can you believe this? My Google image search for “love” got about 35 pictures before a dirty one!)

We all love someone or something, but how do we describe that in a character? How do we show that? Well, you’re about to find out. This week, take a random character from the random character generator and put them into a 1000 word scene where LOVE is evident.

00love 2.jpg

Yep, it’s just like last week’s challenge. Except love, not hate. There’s a method to my madness. With a bunch of descriptions and stories involving descriptions of LOVE, we will have a terrific reference for those times when our story needs a love description. And here it will be.

As you read others’ essays here, you’ll see various methods of expressing…

View original post 682 more words

Spring and Winter ii by William Shakespeare


fresh snow

WHEN icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp’d, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who!–a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doe blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who!–a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.


For: Nurt Thursday – Be Softer