Painting ©Gogo 1968
The dead never die,
they murmur deep in the bone,
coursing in the blood,
touching the grass, the green hills,
with their immortal fingers.
Tanka: The dead never die
Published by
Painting ©Gogo 1968
The dead never die,
they murmur deep in the bone,
coursing in the blood,
touching the grass, the green hills,
with their immortal fingers.
Navigare con attenzione, il Blog si sbriciola facilmente
Inspiration, History, Imagination
Extraordinary Tales of Nature
Diary of a Dublin Housewife
Poems from the Celtic fringes
Stay Bloody Poetic
i think therefore i write
Books and new writing
Never back down 🔱⚔️
Ein OIKOS[TM]-Projekt gegen Antisemitismus, Rassismus, Extremismus und Fremdenfeindlichkeit.
Mad woman from mediocrity, muses.
Writer & Photographer
Canadian Zen Haiku canadien ISSN 1705-4508
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!
a place to chat
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
Jane Dougherty Writes 
It feels like the painting was done afterwards to honour your words. Bravo.
I can’t decide if I find the painting peaceful or chilling, so I suppose it’s appropriate for our ambivalent feelings about death.
A peacefully haunted painting perhaps!
Exactly 🙂
I do love your writing style. Your creepy ones are the best! They send shivers down my spine Every. Single. Time .
And I wasn’t even trying then 🙂 Thanks Sonali! I rather like frightening myself, almost as much as making myself cry.
I didn’t read this as creepy. I was thinking more of how the dead remain in our memories.
That was how I intended it, but everybody has a different attitude to death.