Red Room Where the Writers Are

A man I knew died last week. Stomach pains started on a Saturday. I'll let it pass, he said. It will go away. It always does.

The day before yesterday I received a call from my wife. She and our daughter Debi saw a baby Opossum under the deck and marvelled at how cute is was.

I've had an odd week. Well, not odd so much as sad and rather bittersweet. Forgive me if I spend some time thinking aloud in this blog.

Contemplation-Can I Play Too?

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If "Death be not proud", then - what is it?

Does not "pride cometh before a fall"? And don't you fall when you are dead? Down. Unto, and then under, the ground.

When it comes to writing and blogging, I recognize that my audience varies.

I was talking with the gallows.
He said:
'Maybe it does not seem
But i'm just like those hanging from me.

He didn’t woke up.

Vicki Forman's son died early this morning.

« Love in the Mist »

He walked to the village shop , the church bell striking 10