WHEN I WAS LOST IN ME. is it? Did I ever leave writing? They are extremely preoccupied with zillion things about their life.

A fear of The Fear. Unknown to me that I could be. Free of worries that have crowded me. I sat there praying for my safety. As the wind scraped my face and my body. While sitting on a machinery. That was said to be of no safety. In shocking view of my reality. I realized that Fear was just my imagery. It had no way of knowing my ability. And therefore I broke my dependency. Freedom replaced the Fear in me. The Motorbike Freed the whole of me.

Grandparents give us a heritage of one another, an extended family for sharing memories; that is the greatest legacy they can give. The farmland can be sold; stocks can crash with the market. Cousins to catch crawdads with, or help sell lemonade and bait, that is our richest heritage. Rubenesque woman seeks debonair man to dine with. Wine with, spend quality time with. Answer this ad immediately as I may soon be moving on.

The Perfect Poet Award 4 Poets Rally Week 41. Thursday Poets Rally Mission Statement. Unpeopled Eden; poetry book. Mary Bruce Leopold Holm Reed. This review was originally published in. Fall-Winter 2013, Volume 45. Jiangsu province or Jiangsu Sheng.

Friday, April 17, 2015. Though most of the places in Europe could be thrown into this category, I would specifically mention only those where I have been. Already mentioned in several of the answers. A small town in Southern Germany. It is well known for its well-preserved medieval old town. It is part of the popular Romantic Road through southern Germany.

There is a time loneliness sets in, not from the people around me but from the ones inside me. Those are the moments I seek the pleasure of writing, and some of the pieces find their way into this collection. Why would anyone want to talk about weather. Talking about weather is completely unproductive.

Saturday, July 6, 2013. This page shall continue to be as it is and hopefully, will not be updated. Saturday, August 25, 2012. The fault is not yours though, but that my view of beauty is forever skewed, and look who is responsible. And why I cannot trust you with choosing beauty? Saturday, August 18, 2012.

All about the shakes and moves. Thursday, July 30, 2015. A Wish - Ek Chaah. Thursday, June 18, 2015. Writing is something that comes.

The sometimes poetic ramblings of a berry in the wild. Words are shining, shimmering, skating by. Jumping between cars and dancing in side views. As i follow the bridge across my river. The sun streams across my shoulder,. Threatening to burn with her passion. As i chase and grab and cup,. Catching my thoughts like fireflies. I am barefoot on an august night,. Soft grass beneath emerging stars. Nothing makes sense as written,.