In the golden tree
a bird red throat full of song
summer’s sweet fire
*
In dark winter’s depths
red throat pulses fierce defiance
singing to the sun
*
Black tree bare branches
fire heart sings of summer
winter not so cold.
Ramblings of an Irish ecologist and gardener
Poetry of a changing Earth. The grief is real--so is the hope.
Inspiring others through the written word, fictional blurbs & documenting my writing process from scratch.
occasional musings of an itinerant seanchaí polishing his craft online
The Things That Are In My Head.
offbeat words for you...
Just writing what's on my mind
AS HUMILDES OPINIÕES DE UMA MULHER DE CORAGEM QUE DIZ SIM À VIDA!
And so it goes...
My journey through photography
Inspiration and Spirituality **Award Free**
≈ fictionalpaper / piccoloscissors / creativeglue ≈
Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!
Not a literary magazine for ordinary times, but a journal for an exceptional one. Writing the pandemic, together. Image, Somewhere in Time by Hengki Lee: Instagram @hengki_lee
Running in the slow lane
It started as a 366 - now a regular Photoblog- just for the love of taking photos and sharing them.
I'll talk you'll talk we'll talk
Promoting mindful living
A r t w o r k . . . f r o m . . . . . . H a m b u r g . . . . . . . . . . . . . G e r m a n y
October and November 2019
"Words are all we have" Samuel Beckett.
sharing the stories of interconnection
Jottings of a Storyhound
Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie
Just another blog of random thoughts.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
lines that aim to be
And then I stop and sit and eat.
It’s a pleasure to read and listen such lovely haiku sequence. It’s also a coincidence that both writed about robin bird, I did yesterday, it means that we love robin and it wonderful singing
Have good time
Francesco
I’ve just read your robin poem. Lovely! I left a brief comment in my brief Italian 🙂
Wonderful! I went with the Autumn Sparrow today. We must be on a similar air waves 🙂
I don’t think you can call yourself a poet if you don’t listen to the birds 🙂
Reblogged this on georgeforfun.