The pounding of the machines from the nearby coal mine covered his loud shrieks of cry for his mother. It wasn’t until later in the eveni…
A short story about an infant’s struggle for the right to live.
The scent of spring is your favorite perfume.
I lost 2 uncles to cancer in 2002. I wrote ‘DEAR GOD” for Uncle Harold. I wrote “SNOWFLAKE ANGEL” for Uncle Paul who lived in Nebraska.
I would go visit my Uncle Paul while he was ill. And I would always be looking outside hoping it was snowing. I was born and raised in Wyoming and loved the snow; I miss the snow here in Oregon. On the morning Uncle Paul passed on – I looked out the window for peace and was pleasantly surprised to see that it had snowed! I couldn’t sleep till I wrote down a lot of the words to this poem that night.
The wind like a whirling dervish / Whipping up the leaves…........
Autumn falls the summer sun shines no longer. This is life. Tapestry of russet and crimson. Seasons running for joy for everything nowher…
Experiment writing. (Seasons forever constantly changing going nowhere but moving :D)
The glory of the summer trees, fallen in autumn, / becomes the golden quilt of the sleeping roots / to nourish in spring with renewed vigou…
When I was preparing an image for upload I felt it needed words to justify the image. Sometimes it almosts feels as if the dried leaves of autumn possess a small part of the soul of summer, their colour reminiscent of golden sunsets and warm summer evenings.
he comes to me / the rain was falling steadily.. / a smile flitted across his face / the rain poured down / *he grabbed hold of me an…
Every word has its meaning… / and a glimpse into why i’m me… / But it all sometimes will get a jumbled, / In the flow of thought from me…
All writing images poetry and lyrics copryright dimarie painter / MCN: CDCD6-74CD1-39133
NSFW
I am at one with Summer’s gold / And Winter’s Peace. I feel / No sorrow, nor regret, and with / What little sight I have still, see / What I …
To die happy. Written from the perspective of someone as they leave this world, surrounded by friends and family.
People never look up at the windows. They really should.
This is a reworking of ‘street of the candlesticks’, edited down to 500 words for a RB group. As soon as I heard the theme ‘The City’ I knew I had to write of my beloved Brussels. I lived in the Sablon, the medieval artists’ quarter of tiny crooked lanes and crumbling gargoyles. My house held five storeys lilting into the Flemish sky; my room had blood red walls and huge ivory windows that looked out over the cobblestones. I would sit there day after day with a pen in my hand, and stories were always delivered to my windowsill. People never look up. They really should. Flemish / Kandelaarsstraat – candlestick street / Wat doe je daar, schramoelenbak? – What are you doing, trash bag? / maa crotje – my honey bee / mijn schattebolleke – my little ball of darling
Love attire dressings beauty robes
My favourite poetry
A classic haiku. / The first line came to me on a beautiful, warm spring day as the breeze fluttered through my open window. I wanted to make it into a poem, but I couldn’t get past the third line. / Then I read a story (required reading for my American Lit class, lol) where the main character’s mother wrote haiku for a Japanese-American newspaper. And I remembered: haikus are only 3 lines, and were 5, 7, 5. I counted the syllables in the lines I had. It was perfect. I usually prefer to write unorthodox things in an orthodox fashion, but this one fits into the category of “haiku” perfectly. The syllables are all correct, and it’s about weather. lol
We have 4 seasons; Summer, Fall, Winter and then Spring. As summer starts we hear the laughter of children on swings, slides, etc. and th…
Seasons come and seasons go
winter in her heart and autumn in her eyes and spring in her hair
she wears spring in her hair .
To walk on beaches full of sand, / To let it flow right through my hands. / To play in rock pools on the shore, / I want to share this and s…
I felt inspired to write when a dear friend came to visit who I hadn’t seen for a long time. Times throughout the year I had wanted to share the small, simple things in life with loved ones. Weather it be time, distance or even death that kept us apart…..
Spring seems like a slipper, / That summer wears to keep warm. / Summer is the childhood, / Of Autumns final call. / Autumn is winter’s lover…
Leaves huddled together in beautiful halos of warm oranges and golden splendor, that even the sunsets envy,
This is inspired by the photograph of the same name on my website
Summer turned / And was startled
Your words / are / the four seasons / of / me
spring gently teases / soft blossoms along your path / for when you awake summer paves passion / lays a silk road of promise / confidently…
Come to me in frost of winter / Come to me in summer sun / Come to me when leaves are falling / Come to me when life’s begun Stay with me…
a longing for oneness, this is a poignient piece that ends on a more positive note
Sultry summer sunny days / Sitting silent seeing you / Singing songs in heat and haze / Seek to cherish all we do. Autumn allows a fresh …
spring comes last with new beginings and hope
Winter’s complexion provided her a glow / A radiance of immeasurable proportion
While all signs say it’s cold, it’s hot inside
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