I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.
HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.
They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
A few dumb thoughts, silly and profound, dressed as cliches
There is nothing more musical than a babies laughter, nothing more magical then their smile.
If spring is rebirth what's sprung - dandelions?
Age creeps up on you like a slow tear running down your cheek.
Nothing like a good cry to cleanse a worried mind and empty the angst bucket for a refill.
I wonder why there is never enough money and never enough time, and too many mosquitoes, especially when you want to just sit outside for a few minutes and roll your pennies.
When I think of all the members of my family who are gone, it makes me sad, and I wonder where they are and if I will ever see them again. I try not to think of when I will meet up with them because planning for a surprise party ruins all the joy.