Public Posts Seattle, WA Seattle, WA (zoom)

Here I sit,
alone again,
waiting for the
phone to ring,

of word from you
and how you miss me.
I won't hold my breathe,
so don't worry, I'll be fine.

NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day:

The star system GK Per is known to be associated with only two of the three nebulas pictured. At 1500 light years distant, Nova Persei 1901 (GK Persei) was the second closest nova yet recorded. At the very center is a white dwarf star, the surviving core of a former Sun-like star. It is surrounded by the circular Firework nebula, gas that was ejected by a thermonuclear explosion on the white dwarf's surface -- a nova -- as recorded in 1901. The red glowing gas surrounding the Firework nebula is the atmosphere that used to surround the central star. This gas was expelled before the nova and appears as a diffuse planetary nebula. The faint gray gas running across is interstellar cirrus that seems to be just passing through coincidently. In 1901, GK Per's nova became brighter than Betelgeuse. Similarly, star system T CrB is expected to erupt in a nova later this year, but we don't know exactly when nor how bright it will become.

Photo by Deep Sky Collective

What game is it,
we will play today,
which promotes friendship,
instead of running away?

Life is for living,
is what they say,
but who is they,
they will not stay,

to talk about
all the things we love,
but no longer do,
for they never move.

Pressed hard against,
a barren tree,
surprised by an,
evil adversary.

What type of evil,
must I fight,
to escape this foe,
in darkest night?

A Tiger's stripe,
with tail long,
would be replaced,
by a happy song.

Brain decline
has started now.
It's too bad, for I,
don't know how.

I have many words to write,
before I go,
to complete my list,
of what I know.

They're essential to,
what I write,
but sometimes may be,
just simply trite.

Expectations by others of how
we behave when interacting with others,
has influenced, in my mind, how we
think and stifles inquisitiveness.

Off the rail.
Off the wall.
Down the stairway,
Into the hall.

Echos, strange,
they are,
when heard up close,
or from afar.

A lonesome wind,
so cold, so hard,
blowing across,
the Courtyard.

With the Sun
and no more rain,
we will plant,
flowers again.

Flowers, with
colors bright,
ready for the,
first sunlight.

What happens,
when you think
what you've written,
is wasted ink?

Part of our life is handling the loss
of a loved one. There are many ways
not unique to myself. I wrote this, 6 years
ago. Prophetic, perhaps but my feeling
at the moment.

Humor must be in a place,
when we write of our emotions.
If not, are we human?