IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Expectations artificialliving in an urban junglelonging for nature’s calm – time moves too swiftlybarely registerlet alone participate We are guests in our ownexpectation’s dysfunctionlicensed for depression a smorgasbord for abuseintentions mislaid,disappointment unavoidable The ego pretends to be openbut she’s an actress off cueplaying out a sentence – condemned to basicspraying to escapethis dystopian malfunction. (Image […]
One Woman's Quest II 
The look in eyes of that bull is saying a lot about the close enough theme 😀
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Lol. Exactly!
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I call the little ones bobble heads!
Great picture!
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Thank you!
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Your poetry is beautiful!
I will enjoy following you 😊
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Thanks so much!
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Great shots! 🙂 ❤
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Thanks.
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Two very cool close ups for this week. 😀
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Thanks Cee
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I don’t think Mr. Buffalo was quite ready for his close-up . . .
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Ha ha. That fence looked far too flimsy for me to stick around.
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I hear that!! 😀
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