Photography: When Roses Weep (Part #2)

If I had not mentioned it before, we went to the gardens close to closing time.  The nice thing about that is that you don’t have to worry as much about capturing people in your photos.  Now I know that some people love to take photographs with people in the background, but I (for some…

A Testament to What I Was, a poem

  I am a testament to what I was in the days of my youth strong, firm, and resolute. I grew beneath the shade of trees basked in the warm glow of the sun and treasured the silence allowing the breeze to touch my skin to hear the sigh of the wind and I continued…

When Freedom is Lost, a poem

    Freedom slips through open fingertips like waving fields of grain. We have learned to disperse them and set them out upon the open sea. While some, we neglect others befall our definition through purse’d lips and a furled brow of seething anger that no longer seems to ever sleep. How can we reach…

I Choose to See Beauty, a poem

  I choose to follow the unbalanced beauty of nature’s grace to observe the splendor of opening fields of flowers on an early summer’s morn. It is not, that in winter the fields are not filled with decay, nor that pain does not exist when the finger, is pricked, but my thoughts linger upon all…

Photography: When Roses Weep (Part #1)

The gardens have already started to decay.  Fortunately, there are a few late bloomers left.  It was a joy to see them, in either state… even though many of the garden areas where already tilled to prepare for a new season.  I have decided I will be determined to find beauty, even in seasons where…

When the Mournful are Forgotten, a poem

    I wait in exasperation for the catharsis of uncaring hands for the wanton lips to be peeled back and words, hateful words to be strewn in the trashbin. And when will enough be enough? For words posed to strike are met with words of equal measure and those on the sidelines cheer for…

cacoethes scribendi

  I have succumbed and although words do beg to speak, I find solace in their company and pleasure in my weakness. (c) Sumyanna 2016   Word prompt: cacoethes scribendi Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: succumb Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

If Only My Words Were Enough, a poem

  I wish my words could wash over you like tender raindrops You – a dry parched land outstretched in longing for I know there is need out there – even more than I may ever witness. I wish my words were enough to calm the storm to straighten the ways that people speak the…

Cloaked in My Madness, with Hopes of Reform

    Dress me in my madness let me wear it like a cloak or like a second-skin let me wear it close to my heart this madness, where many do not dwell for they fear, they fear – to feel too much to care to care to make amends to grow to learn to…

Photography: When I Close My Eyes, I See (Post #1)

While I am absolutely absorbed in the beauty of outstretched gardens and even in a patch of earth or a lone shrub, I have to say I also enjoy finding beauty elsewhere.  It is a joy to discover such things – at one point in time, just a quiet voice that now sings loudly, “come…

Technology has gotten the best of me lately…

  I’m not one to usually come across as not caring.  I usually try pretty hard to be understanding, to reciprocate, to be there for others.  I don’t think of that as a bad thing, although some might.  It’s just the way I am.   Recently it has been a whirlwind of change.  Well, maybe…

You Don’t Decide the Definition, a poem

    Sometimes, the world speaks in darkened tongues of lingering discontent the airways full of longing to pick apart each victim piece by innocuous piece while praising their exceptional mastery of empathy. Our marrow seeks the kindness of strangers, but we have fallen into the abyss forgotten the ways that caring hands once held…