simplicity
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Beautiful Child A Beautiful Book
"The inability to forget is far more devastating than the inability to remember", said Mark Twain. I believe this to be the case. The inability to forget is a memory that makes a home in you. It pulls the strings of your mind and heart for better or worse. When something pulls at both the heart and mind it becomes a part of your soul.
By simplicity2 years ago in BookClub
Ode to My Laundry Hamper
Bushel hamper, wickerwork, hamper basket Far from your days as a case or casket With southern roots Who knew your purpose would out grow the fruits, veggies and grains who used you as just a basket 1897, on your way, Sears and Roebuck answered those who asked what can task-it A beautiful receptacle for the dirty, disheveled work suits Built-in, hidden, or a moveable facet 1966, Sears and Roebucks catelogue moved from a simple ad to a three page packet In all shapes and sizes, often padded with baking soda or litter to hide the level it's contents pollutes To me you are no less important than anyone living in my hamlet A welcomed collector, a teacher who taught my dog, my baby, to pick up socks for a biscuit the fastest The one on my side, in cahoots, keeping things organized in my cleaning pursuits Bushel hamper, wickerwork, hamper basket Far from your days as a case or casket
By simplicity2 years ago in Poets
Poseidon's Gift to Elizabeth
Elizabeth put her ear to the shell. A sigh of relief escaped out of her lungs stemming from a pit in her stomach. As she sat in the empty dark room, kneeling humbly over her treasure she still felt the wonder she had felt that first day. After a few moments with her eyes closed she had transported herself across miles of land to her old home, her childhood home. Where the sea had been her lullaby each morning and each night. A creak from the old bones of the house snapped her back to awareness. She took her conch shell and buried in the back of her wardrobe in her sweater storage drawer. She definitely wasn't ready to share it. She closed the wardrobe door, stopping briefly to allow her feelings of eternal gratefulness to wash around in her. How she missed Poseidon.
By simplicity2 years ago in Fiction
Poseidon's Gift
Elizabeth put her ear to the shell. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she sat in the empty dark room, kneeling humbly over her treasure. After a few moments with her eyes closed she had transported herself across miles of land to her old home, her childhood home. The sea was her lullaby each morning and each night. A creak from the old bones of the house snapped her out of it. She took her conch shell and buried in the back of her wardrobe in her sweater storage drawer. She closed the wardrobe door, stopping briefly to allow her feelings of eternal gratefulness to wash around in her. How she missed Poseidon.
By simplicity2 years ago in Fiction
The Picture of One
I never missed the things undone Just all the things truly done Chasing memories that are on the run Pushed away by my own harsh cultivation Getting further each day, with each rise and fall of the sun While we're living together; our single lives for one Our memories were never on the run It was our own harsh cultivation Asking us to leave past destination In the preservation of one Until we have the time, and no where to run To truly meet what truly has been done and left undone To witness cultivation With no need of preservation Until all the things done, and undone, are none What's left, is the picture of one
By simplicity3 years ago in Poets
Sterling Customizable
The show opens with the introduction of a Character known as Sterling. Sterling is a graphic engineer, but really he creates Deep Fakes as his claim to fame. Until one day, his Friend says to him "It's cool, but whats the point? You live in barely a one bedroom apartment with a makeshift kitchen and a small bathroom. You are smart, but what's it worth? I mean it's all Child's play unless you can make money at it, right?"
By simplicity3 years ago in Humor
Children's Games
In another life I'd be the perfect house wife. I'd bake chicken pot pies that tasted rich with flaky crusts and velvet saucy fillings that are delicious. I'd make morning pastries to feed my adoring husband before I kissed him goodbye, before he headed to work. When busy, I'd be rich enough to buy treats or trade with friends for them. I'd complete all my domestic tasks while I worried over my husbands return, without a way to communicate with him. By night I'd wait for my husband to sleep then sneak away to a gathering of friends for the meeting of my secret society. The only break from my god fearing womanly ways as the domestic matriarch of my household. So much stronger than my female form exhibits. I'd pardon myself, knowing my actions aligned with the times. I'd be an artist in my own right. I'd have a male pen name that society comes to adore, as much as my husband does me. A Renaissance woman during the Renaissance. Full of new ideas and the energy to embrace it.
By simplicity3 years ago in History
Poppy. Content Warning.
Vincent Van Gogh once said, "If a painting seems too simple, you just haven't looked at it long enough". For his paintings this is definitely true. I've applied this quote as my understanding of people as well. It's become the basis of most characters I write about or try to develop. People, like snowflakes and art are all unique. Art reveals not only what's being depicted, but how the one depicting it see's something.
By simplicity3 years ago in Art
