Standing in the alcove, watching the rain in the semi-darkness, watching as huge puddles formed in the gutters and the drains overflowed…
She stood in the garden, her eyes blazing as she stared at me. I couldn’t see what she was so empassioned about. It was hidden in that …
The simplest things in creation are blessings and I hope that I always see them this way
This poem was featured in Freedom To Shine The simplest things in creation are blessings and I hope that I always see them this way. Please do not print or repost this poem anywhere without my permission. This poem is from my book, Heaven’s Champagne. / Order from Amazon.com This poem is registered at the Canadian Intellectual Property Office as part of Heaven’s Champagne.
For a few moments I looked outside my window. With joy I watched the droplets of rain form on the tree branches then fall like teardrops…
Morning thoughts. Another day.
I sat in my world of worries weighing heavy…the tears on my face, my only companion… / Watching through the window the world beyond me, si…
What one may see as one thing…another may see as something else… / Roger Sampson’s shot of the Dos Rainbows was that something for me…thank you Roger!
and i miss you…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available From: http://www.cafepress.com/byrongates.26516064
it’s a great life…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available From: http://www.cafepress.com/byrongates.26516064
why is there hate…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available From: http://www.cafepress.com/byrongates.26516064
sad that you bury so deep…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available From: http://www.cafepress.com/byrongates.26516064
and my opinions mean less…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available Here
i have yet to have someone listen to me…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available From: http://www.cafepress.com/byrongates.26516064
beyond any vision we can imagine…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? Constructive criticism regarding any of my work, always welcomed, appreciated and read with an open heart. / Personal eMail These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available Here
that simple dynamic that we all seek so desperately…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? Constructive criticism regarding any of my work, always welcomed, appreciated and read with an open heart. / Personal eMail These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available Here
when ill-tempered and unrehearsed words wound others…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? Constructive criticism regarding any of my work, always welcomed, appreciated and read with an open heart. / Personal eMail These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available Here
but most of all i love the silence in life…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? Constructive criticism regarding any of my work, always welcomed, appreciated and read with an open heart. / Personal eMail These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available Here
and friends and lovers who were by no means real…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? Constructive criticism regarding any of my work, always welcomed, appreciated and read with an open heart. / Personal eMail These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available Here
hidden away in my heart ever so close…
...and what are the words one uses to describe a compilation?, works from my entire life?, fifty years of carrying around a yellow pad?, fifty years of writing and rewriting, changing the words, as their meanings change for me? These pieces are extracted from my book of prose, “50 truths and 50 lies, the first 50 years.” Available Here
Beauty is something you have to be willing to see. You sit in a diner and you see the reflection of yourself, transformed into some other…
This was a comment in regards to a Red Bubble sort of post/conversation. I liked it well enough to rescue it and post it here Sometimes I do my best work when answering other people. None of these photos are mine, all of them are images I found by googling such things as “cafe reflections” , “beauty”, “reflections in a diner window”, and “raining” For the record, I love diners! They can be called cafes, coffee shops, diners, or whatever, I love them. The sort of places where food is good and fairly cheap, windows are ready to be looked out or into, odd characters come in (if they don’t already work there) and the waitresses are not afraid to give their opinions on what you are reading or their two cents about your conversation. To me, they are the best and brightest of all things American.
He never saw it coming. The finish. Silently, on secret wings the letter had arrived and shattered his world…
Inspired by a beautiful poem written by a fellow RB !
i have a story… a beautiful one… but i can’t share it with you
12.o2.2oo8 a beautiful story . some stories are better left untold… .
The dying rain / a slick / earthen rainbow, / pooling up / as a wood-smoke / memory. A blanket of blue / where the chill / won’t / reach, / to…
A poem about the only season worth dying for…Autumn. :) / Sorry…had to say that, and yes, I’m a smart-ass.
I tried to focus my lens on the drops of dew so apparently clear on the autumn leave. It was spectacularly define through my lens no than…
A short story about a photographer who almost gives up on his passion. Then he sees a girl on a rainy day through the lens of his camera. He thinks she is pretty but little does he know just how pretty she is.
You kiss me / Only softly / This is when we’re at our best.
Something from long ago…
As the sun waits for its chance to contribute to the melody / The curtain of the clouds sways with each sounding resonation
Each morning is a sound reminder of starting anew and enjoyment
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