Contributor Posts

I write for you.
I write for me,
about the events,
these old eyes see.

Off in the distance,
I heard a Cock crow,
for it is Sunday
and to worship we go.
Not to church of mine
at this situation time.
We go on line to pray
asking for forgiveness, so,
Thanks be to God
of this much I know.

The problem with running and going far;
you have to return where you left your car.
An old friend and I would run out to
Bothell from Redmond, on the Sammamish Trail,
when training for the Seattle Marathon.
It was our long run for the week.
I don't remember the length but estimate
it was about 14 miles, out and back.
After we returned, we would put on
our Sweats, pants and jacket and go
to Blazes Broiler for a Sunday breakfast.
Bacon or ham and eggs with hash browns,
toast and a few Bloody Mary's.
Our kind of training back in those days.
Some schedule I would say.

Hello there, you people.
Give me a shout
and I will tell you
what love is about.
Love is what you do
when you stay in,
rather than go out
to be with your friends.
No matter the time,
no matter the end,
when you are in love,
It's not "Lets Pretend."
Love is for real.
It can start any place,
regardless of color,
regardless of race.
No matter who,
no matter where,
when love is in bloom
it is everywhere,
so step up to the plate,
let us see very clear,
for a long love,
we suffer and endear.
I love my children.
I love them all,
short ones, tall ones,
but most of all,
I'll love you tomorrow
for don't you see
true love is but a memory.

Maria Popova shares the most important things her all-consuming daily endeavor taught her about writing and living. Read More

Where would you go, what would you do
If the one accountable, was just you?
No responsibilities, no duties to share,
Nobody telling you, what to wear.
A Utopian view, of this World divine,
To relax in the Sun or shade for a few,
Would be a sublime feeling for me,
How about you?