A dream of if
Fountains play in cool courtyards,
the call of exotic birds,
sand caught in the folds of bright cloth
hangings, blowing in hot winds,
a horse galloping,
hooves raising yellow dust,
red leather bridle, silver bells,
and I ‘d drink the desert dry,
all the shimmering waters of Arabia,
if it would wash the past clean.
Words from the poemetry unit
The Blog about everything and nothing and it's all done in the best possible taste!
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
~ Communicator, WordSmith, Artist, Guide, Mentor, Muse ~
I come closest to succeeding by sharing.
🙏🏼✝️✨🌼
Places, books & other diversions
Poetry and Images
A blog by Billy Mills
or a White Other or an Eastern European
Assembling the Jigsaw of a Febrile Imagination
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.
Canadian Zen Haiku canadien ISSN 1705-4508
Ramblings of an Irish ecologist and gardener
Jane Dougherty Writes 
If is a game that has no ending. (K)
Yes. It’s probably a mistake to get involved in it at all.