You vex me…especially in the afternoons when I wake up from a nap. You are okay in the morning…but once that sun glow from the window is gone, replaced by the ugly artificial light, man, your mean streak comes out. Hey, I do my best with what is given to me. I can only do so much…and btw, shouldn’t YOU be taking care of the streaks? Okay, so, the streaks are my fault, but... do you have to make it so damned obvious that I don...
Here is my writing challenge to all you talented word artists: Bring an inanimate object to Life. Have a conversation with a coffee cup, create a love story between a hoe and a hose, have the can of yams on aisle 9 go on a rant. Have us guess at your object...OR...have it be very obvious. Make it fun, make it sad, make it angry. It doesn't matter...as long as you make it interesting. (I came up with this idea a few weeks back after an unsuccessfu...
I know it's hard, but I say move on. He's not budging. He wants it to end...he wants to rid himself of responsibilities. He has problems. He was not ready. Just...move on. I'm here for you. WE are here for you. I'm a helping hand...I'm a shoulder to cry on. Cry...just cry. Let it all out. Don't be ashamed. It hurts...it hurts so much. I hurt for you, you know that? But it will get better. You are young. You are smart. You WILL go places. Don't you worry. Don't let t...
Here's Mine: Get your fortune here... Link (Edit: See if this link works since the other was giving problems)
"Boredom" I yawn endlessly. Nothing to do except to... Wait for tomorrow."
I haven't seen anyone put up a writing challenge for a while, and I was thinking maybe we can do a Haiku Of the Week post...where a topic is put up that you can create into a haiku. Haikus have been a favorite of mine since middle school. In case you don't know, a haiku is basically three lines of writing, with a 5-7-5 syllable pattern. If some of you are interested, here is the first topic: "Boredom" Hope to see some linked on here.
The cigar may have been tightly rolled up in its plastic and secured neatly in his breast pocket, but the rich aroma of it still managed to waft up to his nose. Benjamin could not wait to tear off that wrapper, plop onto the living room recliner cozily molded to his behind, and get that thing lit up. It was to be his savior from a long hard day. He sighs as he is about to roll up the driveway. Ben Jr. (or Benny, when he is feeling affectionate with his boy) has left his bicycle there...