Saying Goodbye To A Friend
After I’d quit my dead-end dreary job that had tormented my very soul, he fed me, listening to the CBC on the radio in his dirty kitchen, stuff from his life laid bare before us, scattered across the table. Without him, I could not have done it, would not have quit, I at the very least would have starved if I’d even had the courage. … Continue reading Saying Goodbye To A Friend
Keeping Hope Chained In The Closet
The other morning, outside assisting a customer, and what a shock the one 80-foot long (fine, 10ft) box doesn’t fit in her Yaris hatchback. Measuring tape, anyone? Anyone? If you were picking up a package, wouldn’t you do some measuring? So, there we are in our little conundrum, me freezing my ears off and about to say that she’ll have to leave it here and … Continue reading Keeping Hope Chained In The Closet
Ramblings Brought On By A Wee Pooping Mammal Named Sylvester
I’m relatively passive and generally do not set out to murder the spider, step on the ant, entrap and kill the mouse, but there are rules. So, I have rules for the annihilation of, em, say a spider. There is a line on the wall and once crossed you are in my domain and as such are subject to my need to either let you … Continue reading Ramblings Brought On By A Wee Pooping Mammal Named Sylvester
Do You Believe In Magic?
Just a grouping of letters, really, and from them we create meaning. This, em, definition I suppose one could call it, or generally agreed on meaning, is not inherent, it is ascribed by a collection of people. A word or mere letter isn’t like the law of gravity, in that one may disagree on the existence of gravity all you want, but gravity will still … Continue reading Do You Believe In Magic?
Euston’s Bones
Maybe call these the B side, the photos that didn’t make it into my last post on Euston Meadow. These are from March 25th of this year, and incidentally, I think the last spring-like day we’ve had so far, as it would seem as though Mother Nature is not feeling very “spring-like” yet. So today as they threaten more freezing rain, and I sit here … Continue reading Euston’s Bones
i see
this grey day and there is no dawn sky, the trees sway back and forth blowing in out Continue reading i see
i am gone
before the dawn is awoken, and through the park on my way to work ~~~~~~~~~~~ // ~~~~~~~~~~~ for the WPC AWAKENING Continue reading i am gone
So What Happens When The Barbarians Grow Up?
Back at the cottage Tim and I would be watching one of my history programs on Satellite ( Time Team reruns from the BBC usually) and Tim would sometimes ask who pays for all this? ,or, why do they care? Cause he certainly didn’t care. I mean, to him, short of gold and silver bobbles or weaponry, minute shards of pottery and stains in the … Continue reading So What Happens When The Barbarians Grow Up?
On The Way Back To The Yellow Bricks
Spring won’t be rushed, it will come when it comes, and winter still holds on with it’s icy fingers, keeping the air crisp and breezy, and with spring will bring the time when D3 leaves town. I do look forward to bicycle rides on a hot summer day and meeting new people, once he leaves for good, which will happen I guess now in mid-May. … Continue reading On The Way Back To The Yellow Bricks
When You Smile
submitted for the WPC :: SMILE Continue reading When You Smile
From This Place Am I
Standing on the covered porch, with that old Oak Tree for shade, awaits a woman who saw two wars, and whose ancestors bloodstain from the civil war lay in the closet in the hall. The tobacco barns off in the fields, as time went on, leaning more and more. Along dusty roads my Dad spent his youth as we drove by those places that defined … Continue reading From This Place Am I
Setting And Rising Again
By the time I washed up on those shores it had been 5 years since Mom died, add another two since my marriages finale, and that morning I had been up all night, having returned alone to my apartment after another libatious evening within one of the bars that lined the shore of that lake, and I was restless. I had grabbed my camera and … Continue reading Setting And Rising Again
And The Ringing In My Ears Is Her Silence
I was born on a hot sweaty day in North Carolina towards the end of the summer of love, 1967. Neither of my parents had any hippie aspirations, no marching on Washington for either of them, as Motown was their groove. From a family, on both sides of the 49th, of rural stock, generation after generation working the land that had passed down to them, … Continue reading And The Ringing In My Ears Is Her Silence
by PaulaB 