I am sorry

This format of thoughts.com is totally confusing.  I want to post in the Writers Blog but I cannot.  When I add any post it is directed to general discussion.    The photo icon icon on my profile cannot be changed even though I follow the...

Wearing Black

There is an old and musty smell that seems to drift in everywhere. The last ship is getting ready to sail. The phrases are stagnant and the rhetoric is stale.  The words are blocked and just won't come.  The horizon is gray and plain and the clouds...

Horse with no Rider

Horse With No Rider   In a vengeance there came,  The hurried and faster and wilder Soul searching where nothing's the same; like the horse with no rider.    Passions still infuse the heartstrings and My spirit is in tow.  The church bell...

DO NOT

 Do not feel bad when people ignore or don't look into your eyes. Do not feel pain when they shun you or won't acknowledge you. For they must know that you are too worthy a precious gem in which they themselves, cannot afford. Do not run from...

Terra Cotta Heart

             Terra Cotta Heart        If I had more strength I wouldn't blink an eye nor would I turn around looking behind.  I would smile and nod, noticing some peace of mind.        If I had courage I would show it readily and raise...

For SnoopsMama

Charity,  your name says it all.  A meaning of love, unconditional... I can appreciate the fact that this is a fight for your very life. I know that it must be discouraging to you but I am so impressed with your stamina and your continued resolve to...

Scribbles #80: Traces of Sanguine

"Frankie, aren't you dressed? We are going to be late and you do this all of the freaking time! We should just stop this viscious cycle!"  She knew her voice was shrill because it broke. She had tried to be patient but he kept brooding and never showed...

Scribbles # 84 It's All Relative, Isn't It?

  It is all relative, isn't it? Why doesn't logic take hold? Since I have nothing else to compare it to, Is the earth still standing still? Is there something else I could do? It is all relative, isn't it? What does it have to...

Scribbles Challenge #87 The Reunion

"Father, what are you doing? You should not have returned."  The soldier looked at the face and then looked at the sky. He understood what was happening as the explosion was huge. He was in the smoke still and heard the moaning groans of his...

Scribbles #86 Angels, I Plead

                       Angels, I Plead Angels, what is good love and what is the breach of it? The youth is finished since the grievous spirit has left And it is all but said and done. Ah, the candles are lit, But no mourning......

Scribbles Challenge: InThe Bleak Mid-Winter

I look at the blanketed ground in all of the white snow and wish that I could articulate what I see in words here. If I were Emily Dickinson, I would speak of the hues of shadows cast off of the pure and undriven snow. If I were Robert Frost, I would...

Scribbles Challenge: My Wish For You

I try not to wish. I really try not to hope. I try to hide and wait out the season of hope. I try to close my eyes and not look at the holiday cheer or hear the carols or pass by the lovers buying their gifts and flaunting their love. I try so...

Scribbles # 51: Autumnal Demise

"November already." She was talking to herself as she kept walking. She looked around her and noticed the low hanging fog which seemed to swallow up the whole sky.  She pulled her coat up tighter around her neck as the wind gusted, lifting up the...

Devils and Grace

I know something about losing and waiting and holding too tight To the shifting sands. I know something about watching the sky bring on the storms and about time Standing way too still. I know something about longing and hoping and...

Scribbles # 50: Hell on Hallowed Ground

It was a dark and stormy night when the air was dampened and stale, when the moon hid behind the thick cloud covering, as if it did not want to appear at all.  Maybe it had heard about the black ghosts, gray ghosts, and the ecru ghosts who were...

Scribbles #49: Alms to the Garden Gnome

My heart is what it used to be before there was the hearth and fire, It is chilled and like an abandoned home with the windows broken out; Nobody comes and goes, the frost is on the ground and snow upon my thoughts. I am like...

Stepping Out Of Love

            Have you ever been lost in a dark and mindless place? Have you ever been terrified to breathe, much less take a step out there, somewhere In faith, just believing that it truly might be that way, some way a bit...

Scribbles #48: Finally, the Restoration

She was no longer the cliche`, the 'foreigner', the one who held out hope even when the hope was all but lost, she was no longer the butt of the joke.  She was possibly the 'half-wit', chaste lunatic, alone and going mad before all of that came to an...

What is your definition of WISE?

To live for results would be to sentence myself to continuous frustration. My only sure reward is in my actions and not from them. Hugh Prather I think this is a wise statement.

The Art of Kindness

The Dalai Lama once quoted as saying, "This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness." I think upon the two vital organs there in our...

Feeling Better than Good

Have you had a day recently when you feel even better than good?  When you feel extremely happy, contented, and peaceable? I feel this right this minute.  I cannot isolate what is significant or what the factors are in making me feel most excellent in...

Scribbles Challenge #47: The Realization Hurts

She felt her heart pounding so hard that she feared any minute it might pound right out of her chest.  She rode her horse as fast as she could while the rain kept its relentless attack upon the whole countryside.  The road was so washed out and the mud...

True Love

My true love, Tis the emblem of what is excellent When it simply exists. My true love, I remember it and weep. Tears, enough to fill an ocean, My true love, Running like a wolf to the sea. I am this woman who...

The Writing Desk

The Writing Desk It was old, delapidated, distressed, paint was crinkled, peeling, The dust was thick and the drawers were stuck. I saw it there midst all of the other junk that was piled high to the ceiling, The young lady gave it to me...