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I'll take a break.
A moment of solitude,
clearing my mind
of sadness.

Remembering I have a
circle of friends
and people who love and
support me.
I am most fortunate.

He was a Cat,
from an old neighborhood.
He was a cool cat,
a regular, Johnny B Good.

Not a rocker,
not even close.
He preferred the Blues
lounge music, the most.

Take the beauty,
as it is given.
See what Nature
has provided.

Walk along
a garden path,
with new
growth.
Comparing with
the old.

Daffodils, Tulips,
are there to see.
Watch Dragonflys
and the Bumblebee,

as they fertilize,
each new bud
from their neighbors.
Truly spectacular.

Here we are,
same place,
same time,
Life's embrace.

When love ends,
what happens then?
No more acting,
no let's pretend.

NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day:

Murriyang, the CSIRO’s Parkes Radio Telescope, points toward a nearly Full Moon in this image from New South Wales, Australia, planet Earth. Bathed in moonlight, the 64 meter dish is receiving weak radio signals from Odysseus, following the robotic lander's February 22 touch down some 300 kilometers north of the Moon's south pole. The landing of Odysseus represents the first U.S. landing on the Moon since the Apollo 17 mission in 1972. Odysseus' tilted orientation on the lunar surface prevents its high-gain antenna from pointing toward Earth. But the sensitivity of the large, steerable Parkes dish significantly improved the reception of data from the experiments delivered to the lunar surface by the robotic moon lander. Of course the Parkes Radio Telescope dish became famous for its superior lunar television reception during the Apollo 11 mission in 1969, allowing denizens of planet Earth to watch the first moonwalk.

Photo by John Sarkissian

It was after 10 PM,
the first time we met.
It was a small bar,
I'm still trying to forget.

I called her Helen,
she called me Dear.
Together for 6 months,
then she didn't appear.

I forgot about her,
after a few years.
I saw her again,
and she disappears.

What lessons are learned,
when a close friend goes away?
Don't get too cozy,
they probably won't stay.

Memories, forgotten,
are beginning to show.
Springing from my mind,
from a spot I don't know.

How funny it is,
the way a mind will work,
for writing, if not easy,
is a task I will shirk.

I try to avoid writing,
of those days long ago,
full of sadness in
places, I no longer go.

Thoughts are racing,
through this old head,
then I remember,
you are now dead.

I have a love,
which I no longer can give,
to the one I loved then,
who I wish could still live.

Alongside, the roadway,
he lay in the ditch,
covered with mud,
he was not known to be rich.

Found that morning,
two sheets to the wind,
unable to speak,
so, they called him, Jim.

Taken to jail,
the drunk tank, it was.
Laying in the filth,
for a reason or cause.

He awoke from his stupor,
not knowing where he was.
His mind was blank,
or specifically, in pause.

What will happen to be,
will he be healed by laws,
or remain where he is,
a traditional lost cause?

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Public domain

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 – 1950) was an American lyrical poet and playwright. Millay was a renowned social figure and noted feminist in New York City during the Roaring Twenties and beyond. She wrote much of her prose and hackwork verse under the pseudonym Nancy Boyd. Millay won the 1923 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for her poem "Ballad of the Harp-Weaver"; she was the first woman and second person to win the award. In 1943, Millay was awarded the Frost Medal for her lifetime contribution to American poetry.