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Tag Archives: Online Writing

Musings from a young mind in a 61 year old body. Welcome to a new friend: 61 Musings

There is a lot to say about me and why blogging is both an intrigue and a nemesis of mine.  I love the idea of being able to talk with people all over the world, share values, ideas and philosophies.  Tell funny stories, uplifting tales.  Display beauty.  Seek wisdom.  The internet is a living breathing library, a growing record of human thought.  But for all of that, when it comes time to put post something I never know what to say.  I take it too seriously.  I try to craft a message for the ages.

That, I am discovering, is a bunch of hooey.  Life is all about having fun, so I’m going to do a “having fun” blog.  As I find things that are interesting, unusual, uplifting or just plain good ideas, I’m going to pass them along to any one who wants to read them.  I hope you enjoy it.  Drop me a note if you do.  I would love to hear from you.

via About Me and This Blog | 61 Musings.

360 Degree Books – Amazing!

One of the things I like about being part of the blogging community is that you end up going on such interesting adventures.  One of the most interesting bloggers I’ve found is Twisted Sifter, a curator of beautiful and amazing tidbits.  Described as “The Best of the visual Web, sifted, sorted and summarized”, it’s awonderful place to visit.  But be careful, you might not want to leave.

On a recent visit, I found a blog about 360 degree books that are being created by Japanese graphic designer and architect Yusuke Oono.  The books contain 40 laser cut pages that can be fanned out to view a whole scene.  You can also look at each page individually.  I think the books are spectacular.

Here are some more views:

360-2 360-3 360-4

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One And The Same | Catching up with Poetry on a Roll

One and the Same

\”Free verse\” poetry from the soul

I shout.
You scream
things get worse.
I don’t listen.
You don’t listen.
things could be better
I get mad.
You’re foaming at the mouth.
We are both showing off
in each other’s faces.
no one wants to back down.
Bright lights on,
our true colors on high beam.
We are one and the same
in our actions and reactions.

Copyright © 2013 Kimalee Jones

via One And The Same | Poetry on a Roll.

The 365 Poetry Project Welcome to a new friend: Charlotte Cuevas

The 365 Poetry Project

One poem a day for a full year. Think I’ll make it?

via Day 59 – Literally | The 365 Poetry Project.

Day 59 – Literally

I’ve had enough of liars-
jokers, clever poets, and satirists-
skirting around what they mean
by proclaiming what they don’t.

Hiding behind a grey screen,
treading water in the middle
of two extremes
and murking it up with their sass;
it isn’t so funny to me.

For would the world not be better off
if all wore visibly their intent,
and made completely known their
point of view?

I haven’t time for deciphering,
unfurling riddles and hypothesizing
whether a no is really a no,
or a deceitfully disguised yes.

I find no fun in figuring
and believe that everyone ought
to aspire to be taken straightforwardly-
to be an honest and genuine man-
to be an honest man
like me.

Day 67 – Florida Winter

You’d think we all gave our lives to be here-
retired early in a condo on the beach
after decades of shoveling horrible snows,
the way we carry on.

We trump out our fanciest pea coats
for three weeks of December discomfort,
grumbling and wiping the dust off
the red part of the thermostat.

But most of us don’t know it, never got
the heart-thrill of thawing something frozen,
never suffered through the negatives
to earn that blessed warmth.

But I have had my fill of swimming pools,
tans I have no use for, ugly flip-flops,
because I know there is no sweat
like the sweat under fleece-
the maddening contradiction of fear and joy
that accompanies a blizzard, wondering whether
we’ll wake alive or dead
in the morning.

I Ain’t Doin’ NaNoWriMo: An Aside

Today begins a month-long project that most of my writer friends are obsessing about, and that most of my non-writer friends are completely unaware of: National Novel Writing Month, lovingly shortened to NaNoWriMo. The challenge is to write a novel of 50,000 words or more in 30 days. (I know you’re doing the math so I’ll spare you the trouble: that’s about 1700 words per day just to make the minimum word count… yikes.)The whole project is supposed to be this uplifting, self-challenging exercise that not only tests your capabilities and willpower, but motivates you to create something you wouldn’t otherwise have had the gumption to complete. Plus, since there’s a whole bunch of other people doing it at the same time, you’ve got this expansive community of writers to hold hands and sing Kumbayah with (or beat your heads on your desks in unison, whatever the case may be.)

As the clock has wound down to NaNoWriMo’s commencement today, lately I’ve heard numerous excited friends hailing its perks and trying to convince me to participate. I thought about it, honestly I did give it a good once-over, but I’ve come to the conclusion that no, I ain’t doin’ it.

Now immediately I know some of you are gasping or scoffing or making some sort of choking noise, I can tell (because yeah, I’m in your computer screen, deal with it.) But before you deal out a swift judgment about my literary merit, allow me to explain.

I’m not doing NaNoWriMo because I don’t need to. If the point is to push/torture yourself into tackling a huge project or to stretch the limits of what you think you’re capable of, I’m already doing that, trust me. My 365 Poetry Project marches ever on, in which I somehow squeeze in enough time to write and publish one poem a day for a full year, the only rule being that I have to be proud of whatever I end up releasing to the public. Believe me, it ain’t easy. I write through my lunch breaks, or in the car, or at restaurant tables surrounded by quasi-offended friends who haven’t yet decided whether it’s mostly amusing or mostly annoying. I wake up in the morning thinking about poetry, scan billboards and boring paperwork for inspiration, cancel dates if I’m not finished yet, and go to sleep thinking about tomorrow’s poem. In short, writing already runs my life. You’ll have to excuse me if the idea of pushing myself any further makes me laugh and want to jump out the window.

FOR MORE CLICK HERE

Interview with Cat Forsley, Author of 100 Days of Love | Poetic Parfait

Interview with Cat Forsley,

Author of 100 Days of Love

Posted on November 12, 2013 by Christy Birmingham

Cover of 100 Days of Love, by Cat Forsley

This book, this book, I’m excited to talk about this audiobook!

100 Days of Love is a beautiful compilation of spoken poetry, by Cat Forsley. Can you say, “A breath of fresh air”? I can, do, love it!

I recently won a copy of this book (how cool!) and could not wait to interview Cat about her audiobook. It is 40 minutes of beautiful poetry. I played it on my computer and enjoyed this soothing collection of romance; it focuses on sweet ties between one man and one woman. I felt my soul elevate as I enjoyed the artistic words.

Of course, what else would I expect but beautiful words and enchanting voice from talented Toronto-based musician Cat Forsley? If you don’t follow her work, she is the lead singer in the band  As The City Rumbles Underneath. Now that the introductions are complete…

Here is my Interview with Cat Forsley (CF):

>>Hi Cat, welcome! Congratulations on your first book! So tell me, why did you write this book?

CF: I wrote 100 Days of Love because My heart was in a place where I just couldn’t stop writing. I write every day : Lyrics , Poetry , prose and stories and after my band As The City Rumbles Underneath uploaded the final cut of Hearts Expire in early October, a new story started to form itself in my heart . And it came out so naturally , so fluidly .

It’s about a Boy and a Girl / man and woman and explores the Lightness of love . The Questions and the answers are Love . And so It came – with a hard rush and was recorded at Morph Productions about a week after I wrote it .

Quote from poem "The Everlasting Now"

Quote from poem “The Everlasting Now”

>>That’s awesome! What do you hope listeners will get out of the book?

CF: I hope that listeners will Get a good feeling when they hear this prose . It’s prose that carries, and explores Love in a metaphysical way. It’s Part Of my dream world : spoken .

The First time i Listened to the final version , i Myself was put in a lullaby world , where all is always alright . I hope that Listeners will also take the underlying theme with them – and that is – that there is no separation. We are Love, We are made to loved and be loved .

>>I feel your soul, your melody, your heart in this book. Why is the book in audio format?

For The Rest click over THERE ===> via Interview with Cat Forsley, Author of 100 Days of Love | Poetic Parfait.

Catching up with valeriu dg barbu | writing, poetry, poems, lyrics, remedy of soul,

Roma’ntic

it seeps through the rheumatic walls
mild canzonets
the girls open one button, the boys, two
dance begins simulated among the curtains,
each one is careful to not to step on his imaginary partner
passers has heard the murmur hot not realize where it comes from
the statue of porter by organ pulls the zipper to the sounds, which still echoes
the night it undress of dark, it dress in bride
the groom accompanies the girls single to single guys
clover climbs the walls

Image

si insinua attraverso i muri reumatici
canzonette lievi
le ragazze aprono un bottone, i ragazzi, due
danza inizia simulato tra le tende,
ognuno è attento a non calpestare la sua partner immaginaria
passanti hanno sentito il soffio caldo non si rende conto da dove viene
la statua del portiere da parte dell’organo tira la cerniera per i suoni, che echeggia ancora
la notte è spogliarsi di buio, si vestono in sposa
lo sposo accompagna le ragazze singole per ragazzi singoli
trifoglio scala i muri

Image

se preling printre ziduri reumatice
blânde canțonete
fetele își deschid un nasture, băieții doi
dansul începe îngânat după draperii,
fiecare singur are grijă să nu-și calce partenerul imaginar
trecătorii simt freamătul cald și nu-și dau seama de unde-i
flașnetarul statuie trage fermoarul sunetelor, ele continuă ecouri
noaptea se dezbracă de întuneric, se îmbrac-n mireasă
mirele conduce fetele singure spre băieții singuri
trifoiul urcă pe ziduri

via valeriu dg barbu blog | writing, poetry, poems, lyrics, remedy of soul,.

The Tragedy Of Unanswered Letters «Catching Up with A Shade Of Pen

A journey of exploration of my ownself and yours as well!

The Tragedy Of Unanswered Letters

I loved writing this with Alex- The Blue Eyed
(Lol, I can’t get the color of his eyes out of my mind).
You must read his wonderful poems. I loved a lot of his lines that he penned here.
It’s been endless years since I wrote to you
It’s been forever since I waited for your reply
And yet, every day when the sun rises;
My eyes gleam with the hope to hear from you
And yet, every night when the moon glitters
A silent tear slowly escapes as I still wait
unanswered letters
The tears of the lonely show life in its glory
An eternity alone, a devastating story
At the surface it may appear that we’re gone
But we’ve been silently waiting here all along
On the surface you may see what you will
But deep underneath the tears eat their fillThe heart though broken sings a song
Despite the wait, it hungrily longs
To belong to the one for whom it still beats
And yet Destiny plays foul and doesn’t permits
Two long lost lovers to unite again
As each suffers silently in unfulfilled love’s laneTo rise above passion and beauty skin deep
And transcend differences and secrets they keep
Reaching forever for one combined goal
Sticking together, two halves of a whole
A fixture of time, steadfast it remains
Love breaks down borders and releases the pain.
love

FOR THE REST — CLICK BELOW

The Tragedy Of Unanswered Letters « A Shade Of Pen.

the knocks |Welcome to a new friend chester maynes

chester maynes

Poetry and Poems

via the knocks | chester maynes.

the knocks

i see those
puppy-lovers of the
great
once-upon-a-time

i see the when of
circumstance in
a calendar year round

that’s true to
the lips of fact

that’s true to
the rain and
flood

that’s true when
the mind is
a disorientation
to the world

that’s true when
all things are
quiet but
we hear
the knocks

perchance, possibly

if only close to you
but i try to be closer
to the one closest to you
then to get at you

and you have
the better half
and i can’t be
your significant other

floating on a
space where i
sweetly laid my
thoughts of you

secretly and
willingly drowning
myself and wishing
that i am the other half

2013

and Love traffics

flowing—
as kisses blow
on this cheek

we photograph
ourselves behind
the blue facade
of internet shops
and dressed the
streets with China
lanterns and make
the pedestrian
complain about
the voyage not
permitted by
our misbehavior

we’re not
these very rude
while all the
passers-by
look at us
with disgust

it’s not our
fault but
we can’t stop
this show
as you and I
know that
we attract

and love traffics

2012

Weekly Flash Fiction |Welcome to a new friend: Jordan Brunelle

 

I’m Jordan Brunelle, a fiction writer from Nashville, TN. And this is my blog.

The goal of Fiction Flashes is to produce one short story every week. The focus is upon stories containing elements of fantasy, science fiction, dark fiction, or satire. 

The word count: 500-1,000 words.

A majority of these stories will be written by me — however, we’ll feature guest posts regularly. Stories written by friends and strangers and strangers who could someday become friends and even enemies (they write stories too!) So if you’re interested in submitting a story, whether you’re a friend or a stranger, please email me with the story attached: jrichardbrunelle@gmail.com.

Thanks for stopping by.

via About | Weekly Flash Fiction.

Memory Meat

Sweet & Sour Meatloaf By mhaithaca

Sweet & Sour Meatloaf
By mhaithaca

by Jordan Brunelle (989 words)

I yelled at them to stop, but they wouldn’t. They didn’t.

And Mom wonders why I won’t eat. She wonders why I sit at the kitchen table, next to my older brother, and I just stare at the meatloaf on the plate in front of me—that assortment of unrecognizable meats and meat-like things, topped with a red-black sauce, mixed together in a chaotic mess of edible mush. She asks why I won’t, just please, for her, eat it. It’s my favorite, she reminds me. Be a good son.

They’re so much stronger than I am, my brother Billy and his friends, and they had little trouble lifting me off the ground and carrying me over their shoulders like a potato sack. Billy’s in 8th grade, three grades ahead of me, and so are Johnny Frankfort and Allen Hicks, his best friends.

“Please, please, please,” I squealed, when I realized where they were taking me. “Please, just put me down.” I knew, when they started towards the woods to the left of the old farmhouse my family lives in, that my life would be changing soon. The patch of woods is thick with brush, difficult to pass through, and it only leads to one place. The Pond.

But that was last week. Now, we’re in the kitchen. My father is sitting in his place at the head of the table. He eats the meatloaf my mother made, in huge, heaping forkfuls, without looking up, and my brother does the same. He’s always taking after my father, his mannerisms, the way he mumbles his words and draws out his vowels and refuses to smile for pictures. I suppose it’s because they spend so much time together, getting up at 4 am every morning to milk the cows.

For more Click Here

Man’s Worst Friend

hairy

by Jordan Brunelle (940 words)

I remember when Wuff first appeared in my living room. I’d just finished breaking up with my girlfriend of six years and was far from desiring any confrontation with a stranger. Especially a stranger like Wuff.

I walked in to find him sitting on my couch in the nude. It was dark, but by the glow of the television I could see that he had the remote tucked tightly between his thighs, one leg crossed over the other. The next thing I noticed was the incredibly unnatural (or completely natural, depending on how you look at things) amount of black, wiry hair that blanketed his entire body.

“Who are—”

“Wuff,” he said.

“What is your—”

“I said I’m Wuff.”

I walked closer, growing more agitated with my intruder, and said, “Okay, Wuff. What are you doing in my house? How’d you even get in here?”

Wuff rolled his eyes and shrugged sarcastically. “Oh, I don’t know, Jake. Maybe you invited me in.” He sighed heavily and pulled the remote out from his crotch before changing the channel.

“You’re getting hair on my couch,” I told him.

Wuff jumped to his feet.

“Don’t have me if you don’t like me for who I am, Jake. You’re the one who let me in, for God’s sake.”

And at that, I suddenly knew. I questioned how it had taken so long for me to realize who this black-haired, bearded, naked man was. He wasn’t a stranger at all. They warned me when I got him, that a mix of domestic dog and wolf can make for an unpredictable pet. A pet with sudden shifts in personality and character. A pet that lashes out at their owners sporadically and without warning. It’s like in the blink of an eye, they transform out of one thing and into something entirely different.

For more click here

Love Is………. |CUP with helen midgley

Love Is……….

Posted by helen midgley on September 29, 2013

he_loves_me_not_by_roxanne_jasmine

(Image from jerrystocking.com)

Love is the touch that renders me still,

And Love is the hunger that I cannot fill,

Love is the kindling that feeds a wild fire,

And Love is the flame that reaches up higher.

Love is the scent of an apple blossom tree,

And love is the flower that you open in me,

Love is the daisy that is linked by a chain,

And love is the sunshine that comes before rain.

Love is the breath that is whispered on skin,

And love is the blood that simmers within,

Love is the heat of the passion beneath,

And love is the wanting that I cannot sheath.

Love is the melee that rages for peace,

And love is the prisoner that yearns for release,

Love is the conflict that fights as we mate,

And love is the soldier whose battle I sate.

Love is the essence of all that we share,

And love is my reason to think that you care,

Love is the words that still lay unspoken,

And love is the wish for just a small token.

Love is the ache that I carry inside,

And love is the struggle I have with my pride.

Love is the one thing I know you won’t give,

And love is the reason that makes me forgive.

via Love Is………. | helen midgley.

Thunder -Love Walked In | Catching up with old friend Steve Fox

Thunder -Love Walked In

Check it out !

So tired of waiting, I walked an empty land
I was looking for something to help me understand
But bad luck kept turning my dreams into sand

I didn’t want pity, I had my share of friends
I wanted somebody more special than the rest
I was aching inside like I was approaching the end

Just about that moment the timing was so right
You appeared like a vision sent down to my life
I thought, I was dreaming when I saw you that night

That’s when love walked in through my door
That familiar feeling I had once before
Love walked in through my door and it felt so strange, ooh

It’s hard to remember being on my own
Ooh, that kind of loving makes a hard man lose control
But I sleep so much better, now I’m not alone

So promise me, baby, you’re always gonna stay
I don’t think I could take it, seeing you walk away
You don’t need to doubt it, I remember that day

That’s when love walked in through my door
I found just what I wanted but I got so much more
Love walked in through my door and it felt so strange

Like a long lost friend that hadn’t changed
Giving me hope again
Love walked in, love walked in, love

Ooh, just about that moment the timing was so right
You appeared like a vision sent down to my life
I thought, I was dreaming when I saw you that night

That’s when love walked in through my door
That familiar feeling I had once before
Love walked in through my door

Oh, love walked in through my door and it felt so strange
That familiar feeling I had once before
Love walked in through my door and it felt so strange

Like a long lost friend that hadn’t changed
Giving me hope again, ooh
Love walked in, ooh, love walked in, love
Love walked in, love walked in, oh

via Thunder -Love Walked In | SFoxWriting’s Blog.

Buy Terry Irving's The Last American Wizard or Anything Else & Help Hey Sweetheart Stay Alive CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP FOR MY MAILING LIST AND BE ELIGIBLE FOR A FREE SIGNED COPY OF "COURIER" COMING FROM EXHIBIT A IN MAY 2014

Buy Terry Irving’s The Last American Wizard

or Anything Else & Help Hey Sweetheart Stay Alive

CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP FOR MY MAILING LIST

AND BE ELIGIBLE FOR A FREE SIGNED COPY OF “COURIER”

COMING FROM EXHIBIT A IN MAY 2014

 

City of Prawns | Catching up with old Friends:Poesy plus Polemics

City of Pawns – Kindle

My new book of poetry City of Pawns is now available in Kindle e-book version at:

City of Pawns

City of Pawns

Buy from Amazon

via City of Pawns – Kindle | Poesy plus Polemics.

[Terry: Ooops. Guess I got the name wrong. Well, make it up to Paul and race out to buy the book. I’ve posted his material here and he has yet to disappoint.

I do wonder, however, what a City of Prawns would be like…]

I #write #poetry and #stories | Welcome to a new friend: keith garrett

keith garrett poetry

MY NAME IS KEITH GARRETT

               I write poetry and stories, If you would like to respond or just

Speak about things then e-mail me at keithkungfutwo@gmail.com

Keith

Rhythm, a sequence in time repeated, featured ...

A WALTZ FOR LOVERS

              She stands there dressed in a gown of white satin,

On her feet, soft shoes that sparkle in the light, tonight.

Her hair made up like a princess at a ball, she’s beautiful,

Awaiting her handsome escort as he moves out on the floor.

Dressed up in a tailored made suit of black, he stares into her eyes,

Taking her hand as the music echoes into this magical night.

Around and around they bounce and sway, waltz a lovers waltz,

These two become one as their body’s dance a lovers dance.

Romance is in the air for two hearts searching loves mystery,

A waltz for lovers, a night like no other, a love between two.

Keith Garrett

via keithgarrettpoetry |  

IN A BLACK CAR DRIVING

             Dressed up in black, not to loud, driving down the road,

Music in my head, the boss sings out a tune, i’m driving.

Sunglasses to match this beautiful machine of black,

Eyes wandering, scenery passing by as i ride, dreaming.

In a black car driving, I’m moving down the road to you,

In a black car driving, eyes fixed on the horizon, driving.

With the window down i can feel the wind, listen to the sound,

My dreaming mind takes me to you, the way to you is complicated.

Down the road as you are not so far away, just a touch away,

A smile shows through on your face, everyday this way.

Keith Garrett

No Love Poems | Catching up with friends: Gatsby’s Abandoned Children

No Love Poems

  by · in Poem

poem heart fossil fossilized

The bruises along her legs are not memories
but empty spaces.

There is no fossilized evidence

love ever existed.

via No Love Poems | Gatsby’s Abandoned Children.

[Terry: Wow. Just Wow]

The timeline of one novel |Catching up with old friends: Alec Nevala-Lee

Thoughts on art, culture, and the writing life.

A page from the author's notebook

Since it’s Labor Day, I thought I’d mark the occasion by considering an unusual, highly specialized form of labor: the progress of a novel from initial idea to finished book. In particular, I’d like to talk about the timeline. One of the most mysterious aspects of writing fiction, at least from the outside, is how long each stage requires. A novelist will sometimes end a book with a statement of how long it took to complete, like the terse “Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914-1921″ at the end of Ulysses, but that little number often raises more questions than it answers. How much of that time was spent on a first draft? How much on revision? When a novelist says that a book took about nine months to finish, what does that really mean? With Eternal Empire appearing in stores tomorrow, I thought it might be interesting—at least to me—to look back at my own files to see exactly how and when this novel came into being. Whether or not this will be useful for anyone else is another question, but I don’t think it hurts to share this information, since I haven’t often seen it elsewhere.

I’d been mulling over the prospect of a third installment almost as long as I’d known that this would be a series in the first place, and for years, there was a page devoted to random ideas for a final novel in my writer’s notebook. The first tangible evidence I have of the direction the novel would take is an extended notebook entry dated July 12, 2011, followed by a small text file from September 4, which consists of nothing but a short excerpt from the book by Rachel Polonsky I mentioned here last week, along with a stanza from Alexsandr Blok’s poem “The Scythians.” Three weeks later, while I was still waiting for notes on the final draft of City of Exiles, I finished a seven-page proposal for a novel that was known, at that stage, as The Scythian. Even at this early stage, the synopsis was fairly complete, but my agent and I still waited for almost three months before sending it out, since we wanted to approach my editor after he’d read and approved the final draft of the second novel. On December 12, the proposal was finally emailed to my editor, and by early January, we had a handshake offer, with a deadline of November 1, 2012. (As always, the contract and payment took longer to finalize, but that’s a topic for another post.)

A page from the author's notebook

As usual, I decided to spend the first month or so of the writing process entirely on research, with only a general sense of how the material I found would fit into the final story. Looking back at my own notes, I seem to have focused primarily on the Shambhala angle and putting together a chronology and visual materials on the London riots. By January 30, I felt confident enough to start a detailed outline of the first third of the book, which I finished on March 5—which happened to be the day before The Icon Thief was released. I immediately began work on the manuscript itself, aiming to write a rough version of a chapter each day, and finished up Part I on April 29. This section of the draft ended up being about 59,000 words long. I don’t seem to have wasted any time in getting to work on Part II, and I started research and outlining on April 30. I began writing Part II on June 15, taking a short break to revise the prologue, which would appear as a teaser at the end of City of Exiles. Part II was finished around August 5, amounting to 50,000 words, and outlining for Part III began the next day. I finished this outline within two weeks, and I had a draft of the entire novel by August 30. Total length was about 125,000 words.

At this point, I normally would have taken an extended break, but given my compressed timeline, I ended up waiting only a week or so before diving into the revision. In the meantime, a number of significant events had occurred: my original editor left Penguin, leaving the book in the hands of another, and the title changed from The Scythian to Eternal Empire. (If I’m going to be honest, I do miss the original title, although the new one is still pretty good.) I continued to revise the manuscript over the next couple of months, cutting the draft down to 100,000 words, and delivered a version to my publisher two days before my deadline, on October 30. I then took the long break I’d been craving for months, using the time to write the story that ended up being published as “The Whale God” and doing some tentative work on the manuscript that I hope will be my fourth novel. I also had my first daughter. I got notes back from my editor on February 9; returned a revised version, which included a new chapter and some additional material, on March 1; got the copy edit on April 16 and page proofs on May 9, both of which involved some small changes; and by May 14, I was absolutely, positively done. And tomorrow, you’ll see the result for yourself.

via The timeline of one novel | Alec Nevala-Lee.

[Terry:  I love the little addendum, “I also had my first daughter.” Alec is absolutely someone with a clear view of life.]

“an ineffable infinity of serendipity evenings of peculiarity and fiery.” | Catching up with ann johnson murphreeauthor

annjohnsonmurphreeauthor

Artist, Poet, Fiction Writer

 

Love is Tiring…

Coalescing into an ineffable infinity of

serendipity evenings of peculiarity and

fiery.  There have been times that I

wanted to weep.

Weep, angered that I ever met you.  A

stone, yet I am patient as I gaze into your

eyes.  Never understanding completely,

your mind not pliable.

Oh, this despoiled flesh the path to

happiness, the consummation of my brain.

I think this thing called love is very tiring,

very, very, tiring as the tides of life flow

onward.

 ***

2013.annjohnsonmurphree

All eBooks at the address below:

Beyond the Voices

http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Johnson-Murphree/e/B00CGBLQZO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1375763518&sr=8-2

via Love is Tiring… | annjohnsonmurphreeauthor.

This And That | Catching up with Kimalee Jones

Poetry on a Roll

This And That

You don’t know me
better than I know myself.
Don’t try to show me
a painted picture of myself.

Don’t use my words
to mop the floor.
Stop using your words like swords
to push me out the door.

My life like yours is full of mistakes,
stop pretending you are made of gold.
I always knew that you were fake, fake, fake,
you only wanted me to freeze in the cold.

Copyright © 2013 Kimalee Jones

via This And That | Poetry on a Roll.

“There’s a million people inside my erratic mind. I can never have silence but for a brief time when I write”| Welcome to a new friend: Ky Grabowski

 Welcome to the inner workings of my mind

via Spotlight; Litebeing | Ky Grabowski.


That beautiful profile picture of me was created by the talented and super lovely artist Koizumi, whom you can find here on DevianArt

[Do check her out; she’s so creative and wonderful] 

 

Who I am.

Ky Grabowski was born in Canada, nineteen years ago.  She is the oldest of two siblings as well as the shortest. She had a younger sister, who died some time after she was born to which Ky has revealed she has her name tattooed on her shoulder.

 

Her thoughts on the tattoo “She reminds me to live life to the fullest because not ever gets too. Danielle reminds me that while life has darkness it is full of light, for her I live my life & never give up. It’s for her that I want to experience each emotion good or bad, and any adventures I can go on. She inspires me, & has given my heart salvation.”

 

Her parents divorced when she was a freshman & has stated that “I don’t feel I missed out on anything, my mother showed me strength, courage and how to be a fighter. She believes in me & loves me, there’s nothing else I could ever need.”

 

Ky has always been a clever, unpredictable & lively young woman. She explored everywhere she went & had no fear for the consequences. She once climbed out of a two story window as a child to save [gather] her adorable puppy from the rain against her mother’s orders because she thought he would melt. Her care and heart have proven to be some of her best qualities.

 

She is an avid runner and had once been looked into, and to be trained for a career in track but turned it down. She focused her attention on writing from the young age of ten to use her wild imagination for the good. The last ten years she has continued to improve her skills by reading as many books as she can and focusing hard during her high school education on her English courses.

 

Ky wrote her first entire novel in six months at the age of seventeen. Following that she began to outline a new & separate fantasy series expanding thus far to seven novels. Ky prefers to write drama’s, thrillers, and taking the norm out of her writing.  “There’s a million people inside my erratic mind. I can never have silence but for a brief time when I write I can express each person, each story, I can give voices to the noise in my mind. Writing allows me to escape.” – Ky Grabowski, on why she writes.

 

She has stated “I want to share my inner world with others through my novels.”  Continuing on with “My stories showcase life struggles in ways that can allow readers to grow with the characters inside the book. I hope that the words I write open eyes to change. I write many flawed characters so that people can connect with them & learn from them.  I need the world to see that you can overcome anything in your way & that you never give up on something worth fighting for.”

 

Ky also has a passionate dream of opening a community center or home for trouble youth. She once was determined to be a counselor to help others that have experienced or are in trouble. She has expressed that she does not have a desire to get married or have children of her own but rather would like to foster and or adopt children. “It’s not that I would pass up the chances for either but I don’t see the future, I only have ideas of what I want however the future could say – it might not be what I need. I want to foster or adopt because I know what it’s like to be where those kids are, they need to know someone cares, someone loves them. They deserve they’re happy endings – I suppose as cheesy as it sounds, it’s the truth.” – Ky Grabowski

 

She is also an experienced photographer & editor, having been hired on numerous occasions for parties, events, and weddings. She designed the cover for her novel “Courage.” She described her choosing of what she did as follows. Eve goes through a journey from an event that tells the readers just who she is. She grows from a girl to a woman quickly and you get to see her story as well as see her growth with each passing page. The cover though looks simple is meant to showcase the evolution of the character.”

 

She has stated that her hero’s are her sister, mother & Ellen DeGeneres and that her favorite band is “Florence & the Machine.” Some of her favorite authors are as follows; Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allen Poe, Nora Roberts, Lauran Kate, Jane Austen, George R. R. Martin, C.S Lewis, Johanna Lindsey, James Patterson, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, William Shakespeare, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

 

I wish the world would stop being so full of hate; love is so much more powerful when you cherish what it truly has to offer. Sometimes I want to be ignorant to the evil in the world so I can blissfully stay naive that we’re capable of more than we have shown. Though of course I cannot and I will try my best to help others whenever I can.” – Ky Grabowski shares a random thought.

 

Currently Ky is focusing on her blog & second novel series as well as taking care of the two new additions to her family, puppies. She is also an avid supporter of mental illness as she suffers from undisclosed mental illnesses herself.  Ky is currently twenty and is looking to publish Courage after it’s been professionally edited.

Book 1; Courage in the Vices & Virtues series

Synopsis;

Tanix Keeran is a troubled adult with a sinful past. She left her family behind for the pursuit of drugs & alcohol and a life on the run. Tanix’s fun filled future suddenly ends and her family openly welcomes her back. With hope this time Tanix will stay sober– expect it’s short lived. When her entire family is murdered and Tanix survives it’s suddenly clear that now she won’t be running from her life but running to save it. Tanix has made choices that define her and her future doesn’t look promising when temptation arrives at every corner.

Tanix’s only problem is she doesn’t know who’s after her or why. But when she’s kidnapped from witness protection by the people who were supposed to help her she finds herself in the hands of the man who turned her life upside down. He hunted her down to have her to himself and now he does. Tanix is now trapped and locked away with the sickest man she’s ever known. All he wants is her and now her only chance to live is to surrender herself to him.

So what can you do when evil wins? Most of all how to you survive when you believe this is a punishment you deserve?

Opinion Monday #1 Mental Illness

Opinion Monday’s are now official. Each Monday a selection of questions will be posted and answered. The answers are not recommended for everyone, but are simply opinions and experiences shared. Not everything answered is suited for different situations, people & etc. These answers are shared in the hopes to help others and show what someone else would do in a similar situation. In the end all of the information provided is subject to change and interpretation, and in any situations it is up to ‘persons choice how to be handled. These questions that are answered are answered in what someone else would try, do or think might work based on questions. These opinions are not from a professional.

 Question; Should I seek help regarding mental illness?

Thoughts & Tips; Yes, I personally think seeking help out is a good choice but that’s not easy for everyone to do. It hasn’t been easy for me. I’m the type of person who fixes my problems myself but regarding mental illness I cannot. I think it’s best to seek out help because I’ve noticed with the help of professionals I’ve gotten better in many areas I struggled with. There’s still issues but with professional help in times when I can’t go to someone I’ve learned great tips to help me deal with my struggles. In the end it’s your choice but from personal experience being happy, healthy and living my life without limitations has proven to be a better life to live.

Question; I’m nervous about telling my parents about what’s going on with me, mentally. Do you have any tips to speaking to them about it?

Thoughts & Tips; At any age this is always hard, especially with parents. I was extremely nervous to tell my mother what was going on with me and it was only about two months ago I confessed a lot of it. When I first started counseling I didn’t explain the entire truth because I was scared and that’s normal. It’s okay to be scared in telling your loved ones but with a supportive group around you, I think you can achieve more in this situation.

My tips would be to politely tell them you would like to sit down and talk. Ask them to listen to you first, so you can explain your story and that knowing they love and support you will greatly help you in this situation. I asked my mother to simply listen to what I had to say and then I best tried to answer her questions revealing as much as I felt comfortable with at that point. It’s not easy to speak about it and it’s just as hard to hear that your child is struggling. Keep an open mind and work together – that’s the best thing!

Much More at http://kygrabowski.wordpress.com/

 

Check out her NYT-winning poem |Welcome to a new friend: V.C. Linde

A blog full of poetry by V.C. Linde

This about page is a combination of three pages from my personal blog. Over there I have a page about me, a page about the website and a page about my poetry.

Here’s the condensed version.

I live, work and play in the English Midlands. I lived in London while I was at University and for a few years afterwards and then moved back to the Leicestershire/Derbyshire borders. I now live in Staffordshire – the creative county!

Most of my time is spent writing, in every possible way. I mainly write poetry and scripts but also flash-fiction, short stories, longer prose and food writing.

I started writing poetry when I was very young and just kept going. Once at university I began to research and write more clearly, I developed a lot and settled into my own style. I also wanted to have the words I wrote visible and so I began to design collages to frame my poetry and had these all around my walls. I ended up enjoying the collage so much that I formed a small business making and selling collage artwork and cards alongside the jewellery I already sold.

The first major project that I worked on was my “Three Random Words” collection where I asked for three words from 100 different people and wrote a poem that had to contain those words. The most unexpected and wonderful side effect was the inclusion of one of these poems in the beautiful anthology, Dark Currents from NewCon Press.

After the end of the Three Random Words project I tried to find something new to keep working on and I tried a few different ideas – I tried writing a poem a day, I tried free writing as well writing some After Poetry. The After Poetry collection is a series of poems inspired by a poem that I admire where I take the rhythm and theme and re-work the idea in my own voice. In spring 2012 my poem, “Free Flight into the Wordless” won the New York Times found poetry competition.

via About | Listen for the Reverb.

Scraps

sleep at the bottom of the tallest tower
so that the your dreams can spiral
up, out, and away into the world.
Chase them – as they wait for you
at the crossroads and the end of the line

Pray

Simply at peace, she doesn’t move.
Her pale skin is dressed in hues
from the Rose kept high above.
A brittle glass – filigree decisions
fused over time to create beauty.
She stands, equidistant between
the Crossroads and the doorway
to decide where to go next. Choose
whether to renew or walk out.
The sun shifts and everything old
falls into its place, so that the way
will illuminate for one and all.
To follow, to choose, to believe.

With many thanks to Scott Waldrup for the original inspiration of “rose, doorway, illuminate” during the Three Random Words project.

[Terry: Wait One Damn Second. Did you read what V.C. wrote like it was a throwaway line on her About page? “In spring 2012 my poem, “Free Flight into the Wordless” won the New York Times found poetry competition.” No, I’m sorry that should be...

In spring 2012 my poem, “Free Flight into the Wordless” won the New York Times found poetry competition.

Image representing New York Times as depicted ...

Come on. Take Credit where Credit is due.]

May 18, 2012, 11:00 am Comment

Found Poem Favorite | ‘Free Flight Into the Wordless’

By DANIEL E. SLOTNIK
An image of The New York Times's obituary for famed poet Walt Whitman, which inspired this poem.An image of The New York Times obituary for poet Walt Whitman, which inspired this poem.
Go to related obituary »

This poem, one of 11 winners of our Third Annual Found Poem Contest, comes from Vick, who is 25 years old and lives in Nottingham, England.

Vick created this poem from the 1892 Times obituary of poet Walt Whitman.

Check back every day through May 25 to see the rest of the 11 winners.


Free Flight into the Wordless

He selected who arrived, sent a messenger – His
vital powers, his own lot, should turn him gradually.
The remains of the poet will be champagne, oysters and
last words. The disease left him – exhumed and deposited.
Conscious, he felt the peaceful end. Uttered so low that
the poet’s wish answered, in an almost inaudible tone.

He was dying – punch this morning – he might die.

The old gray pain arrived at the house,
the attack was failing enough to be permitted.
His last hours gathered around him,
with his few faithful friends in two tiers
“I would rather go in the woods.”
The remains of the poet continued to beat.

“The best part about being a writer is you can be a #serial #killer.” | Welcome to a new friend: therussianway

Write, Write, Write, Sleep, Write

“The best part about being a writer is you can be a serial killer.” – Nicholas Thompson

What is the point?

So, I Love to Write! I really enjoy crime, and really anything related with bad human actions, and the question why do some people do bad things?. I also really enjoy Poetry. I am currently writing a crime novel, and a poem story. I love reading about other peoples stories about writing, and sharing ideas about writing. It keeps me going and something to look forward to when I get home from school or work.

I was born in Russia. Learned English. Still sometimes hard for me to understand grammar and pronunciation, but I still love to write? What? Yes, even though at times I reread my lines and say why did I write that or someone points out a mistake, and I say My way sounds right… I still manage to keep pushing through. Ultimate goal is by 23, to have published a book. Currently 18, almost 19. Four years to make it happen!

via What is the point? | Write, Write, Write, Sleep, Write.

A human being

See what you can’t see
Love what you never loved
A better human

Sounds with morning the breeze

Joggers ipod sounds coming through

Small kids with loud voices coming through

The music on my laptop

Keeping my morning together

Her eyes

There’s a girl

I don’t know her

Or her name

But I know her eyes

They always with me

I’m not in love

Just a picture for now

A nice picture

To put me to sleep

And give me lovely dreams

{Terry: His dream is to publish a book by 23!  My dream is to publish a book before i BLOODY WELL DIE!]

CLICK HERE

TO SIGN UP FOR MY MAILING LIST

(AND BE ELIGIBLE FOR A FREE SIGNED COPY OF “COURIER”)

 

“#Bad choices, bad decisions I have to live with the #consequences of their actions” – #Welcome to a new friend: Liam Kingman

[Terry: I have to say, I’m a little afraid of our Mr. Kingman here. A) he’s far too organized, I barely wake at the crack of noon, and b) when he releases his stockpile of poems and stories, he’s going to break the market–like when deBeers sells too many diamonds.

Only Kidding. Welcome Liam)

Homepage of Poet Liam Kingman

First Time?

Welcome to The Chronicles of the Celts! I am thrilled that you stopped by and look forward to having you become a part of our community. Ask away about anything under the sun. This is very much a work in progress and will change and grow over time. I apologize in advance as I have often put off updating the site, but I am committed to sharing with you all as I move forward.

Been here before?

Welcome back then. Grab a pint of ale or a cup of coffee, whatever will quench your thirst.  Good to see you again and please comment on something. Too much spam comes through here and I love hearing from real people.

My passions are for writing, reading, homesteading, cooking and eating. Dieting not so much, but we do things we don’t like doing (for example practicing grammar) to do the things we love to do.

A little secret…

My grammar and spelling is horrible. How about that for a handicap for a writer? There is just something in my brain that goes wrong when it comes to spelling. I can easily memorize the definition of a word and know how to use it in a sentence correctly, but somewhere from my brain to the spelling of the word on the page something breaks down. I gave up writing for 8 years out of frustration with spelling. I could not get over what I was doing wrong. It wasn’t that I didn’t try to learn to spell because I had. I’ve struggled with spelling all my life. How does someone with a 162 IQ and a wicked memory not know how to spell? I don’t know either. So the best things I can say is, my novels will always need a good editor… or 2. Feel free to point out spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. I’ll fix them and I will not take any offence.

Thanks,

Liam

Liam Kingman is a 35-year old American writer, living in Maine, who spends his time away from the keyboard, raising his two boys with his wife on a small homestead. He is the author of thousands of free verse poems and hundreds of short stories that he will begin releasing in late 2013. He is currently working on several novel projects, new works of poetry, and short stories.

via About Liam – LiamKingman.com.

Daily Poetry and Prose – Lucid Dreams | Poem #3227 By Liam Kingman

There are too many chickens in the coop

Too many hens clucking

Too many roosters herding

Not enough thinning of the herd

There is another rooster on the way

I may just have to be the one who flew the coop

Free range for awhile until the fox thins our numbers

Bad choices, bad decisions

I have to live with the consequences of their actions

What was lost has not yet been found and until then

There will be too many chickens in the coop

Books

I have several working titles for Volume 1 of The Chronicles of the Celts. I have a disliking of labels that runs from some unremembered event of my youth, but whatever that event might have been it lingers on to this day. Like other telling of tales, Lord of the Rings for one example, it will contain two possibly three book depending on how they fill out. As of right now my outline is looking at two. The story will revolve around a core of characters, their relationships to one another will be partially clear to you the reader, as well as somewhat of a mystery.   The hardest part for me in outlining the series is the fact that it is massive and complex, both in subject matter and in length. To tell it with the dignity that I feel it deserves it will take between seven and eleven volumes and to do it right I am trying to sketch a bare bones outline of it all. This will avoid a rambling on of unnecessary filler and the end game will be the driving force from page one.  I approach this task with clear eyes. I understand that even the best stories sometimes go astray when they start to reach the epic length I am attempting to create. My promise to you is your time invested in reading it upon completion will not be a waste.

http://www.liamkingman.com/the-chronicles-of-the-celts/books/

View From the Cheap Seats Day 4 – Catching up on Poetry Quota

When I crashed last night I slept for 12 hours straight. I guess the lack of sleep finally got to me. I rolled out of bed at 11:00 and grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch and I was off to the computer.

I had notes on most of what went into the Day 3 post so I typed that up, twice since a thunder storm knocked out the first post at 1500 words, the 2nd one ended up at 710.

I’m behind on both the short stories and the poetry, but the Red Sox had a day game so 1 to 5 was totally unproductive. I did manage to get some reading in listening to the game as well as playing on twitter a little bit.

5:00 I made the kids chicken nuggets since that is what they wanted. I wasn’t feeling super hungry so I made some Nachos and tried to get motivated for some writing. I ended up reading blogs from 5:30 to 8:30pm and then got into the writing.

I want to write 5 poems a day on average and since I had written 0 in three days I figured I better write 20 to get caught up. I wrote 25 poems for 1501 words in an hour and fifteen minutes, so at  9:45pm I checked facebook real quick and got bad news.

One of my friends son was killed in a car accident today and their daughter is requiring surgery. Needless to day my writing is done for today. I was ready to knock out a few thousand words and finish Scarecrow,but that can wait until tomorrow. My kids are asleep, but I’m going to go lay down with them for a little bit until their mother gets home from work. She is going to take this pretty hard.

Life can change in an instant.

8/4/2013

Day 4

Total

15 Min Warm up

Reading

Short Stories

0

2,051

Poetry

1,501

1,501

Novels

0

2,900

Blogs

2,502

5,734

Total

4,003

12,273

 

Check out Terry Irving’s New Paranormal Thriller,

The Last American Wizard (The New Abnormal)

“To enchant the water with romance” | Welcome to a new friend: Baldy

Baldypoems

About Baldy

Things you should know about me:

IMAG0275

I’m bald.

kprofilewriting

I write poetry (amongst other things)

kprofile1

This picture makes people smile, hence I use it as my avatar.

I had a blog called oopshowdthathappen (where you may have seen much of the material that will be posted here) but I went more nuts than I usually do and deleted it.  I regret this.  This is a poetry blog, a place for me to share poetry.  I write in a variety of styles and sometimes in character, please do not assume that any one poem pertains specifically to me.  Whilst I write some particularly serious poetry, I do NOT take myself seriously and have a wicked sense of humour (please do tell me a joke and never be offended by one I make, I never intentionally offend).  To prove this, here are some pictures of me being silly:

smartsilly

kprofileelton

kprofile12

kcar

Keep smiling and keep writing.  Be, breathe, believe.

Kind regards from baldy :)

via About Me | Baldypoems.

Titan Rhyme

Such sad songs are sung
As singers sing unto the sun
And dances are danced
By dancers who dance
For love, for light, to be as one.

Swans swim as swans have swum,
In lakes and ponds and rivers that run,
For love of swimming, just for the chance,
To enchant the water with romance
As singers and dancers come undone.

©KieranDavis2013

Evil (Or Jedar’s Jig)

The sounds of terror are my tune,
I hear melody in children’s screams,
Listen lovingly as mourners inhume,
I bury them with their dreams,
Delight in a symphony of sorrows,
I suck the marrow from faith, slain,
Sing songs of lost tomorrows,
Hear my requiem of pain!

©KieranDavis2013
©Baldypoems2013

This is from my mythology (Jedar is the designated deity for evil in my realms)

‘Hunted’ soon be available in the US… | Emlyn Rees

Hunted’ soon be available in the US…

http://emlynrees.files.wordpress.com/2013/07/hunted-us-cover.jpg

Cover reveal: here’s how the first Danny Shanklin novel, ‘Hunted’, will be appearing in the US in October with HarperCollins’ hot new crime fiction imprint, Witness:

Feel like getting your order in early? Click right HERE.

via ‘Hunted’ soon be available in the US… | Emlyn Rees.

[Terry:  Oh, did I forget to mention that Emlyn is my editor at Exhibit A?  How careless of me.]

“Crying heart doesn’t let the night disturb and rolls into itself to cry some more”| Catching up with Talking Experience

Love – The Ultimate Emotion

428472_10151627297093489_1425741430_n

Tear drops touch the cheeks and tremble down towards the earth,

Crying heart doesn’t let the night disturb and rolls into itself to cry some more.

Eyes are numb with the overwhelming emotions and are afraid to express,

When the night is beautiful with the shining moon there in the sky.

There is this silence that says everything without saying a word,

While the wind takes those tears and spread over the sand near the water.

Heart dwells with some more emotions feeling them to the core,

When mind looses track of time and travels to the past.

Feeling of love takes over and a smile dances on the lips,

Not long does it take for sadness to take over again.

It was love and love only that made her laugh, smile and yet sad again in life,

It was love that made her cry, shout and yet calm and peaceful again.

via Love – The Ultimate Emotion | Talking Experience.

the sound of rushed heartbeats. Lost in each other’s eyes.| Poetry on a Roll

Layers Of Love

Love.

The blistering burn
that aches and aches.

Craving slight touches.
Whispering sweet words in ears.
Random kisses.
Hugs in abundance.
Regular phone calls.
Spontaneous texts.
Honest conversations.
Sweet sensations on and off the court.
Short hand-written notes
or long love letters.

Sincere appreciation.
Acceptance without question.
Showing understanding.
Giving simple gifts.
The spectacular sound of laughter.
Holding tingling hands,
fingers entwined.
Cuddling in bed.
Just the sound of rushed heartbeats.
Lost in each other’s eyes.

Copyright © 2013 Kimalee Jones

via Layers Of Love | Poetry on a Roll.

A Poem About Me–Catching up with Kira Woodsbury

My Pen, My Sword

Etheree: the ME i see

20130723-135040.jpg

Me
Just me
Wanna be
The me I see
The quirks that are me
My shortcomings that be
The odd behaviors I see
The past mistakes that make me, me
All of these are part of who I be
I am learning to love the me I see

© 2013 Kira Woodsbury, all rights reserved
Photo Credit: 2.bp.blogspot.com

Click here for the details for this poetry form.

__________________
The 411: This is all about me learning to love myself…mistakes and all. I wanted to use a rhyming scheme with the repetition of “me, be, see.” The incorrect grammar was used on purpose to represent the “flaws” that are a part of me. Incorrect use of “be” grates on my nerves which is exactly what my flaws do to me emotionally! It was a verbal way to let others experience that “argh” feeling with me.

via Etheree: the ME i see | My Pen, My Sword.

annotated audrey art

Desert Artist & Coloring Book Illustrator.

Iridescentfox

There are no foxes here

Tamara Philip, Author

Where Love blossoms...

Nostalgia Pie

Comfort food for the soul from a time when things were so much simpler...

Adventures of an author's wife

Editor and publicist for my author wife Michelle McMurrie. Michelle is transgender and wrote her current books under her previous name of Michael Pugh.

Chris Brake Show Podcast

LIVE! Every Wednesday @ 8pm Eastern / 7pm Central on StrangeLabel.com

Mindy Ogg

The Peaceful Pacifist.

WorldofHarley

Fun for the whole asylum!

Big Red Carpet Nursing

Fun & Progress!

Globe Drifting

Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.

lorellepage

Reader-to-Writer

The Honking Goose

something to honk about

Blinginitwholesale produces wholesale rhinestone apparel and hot fix crystals

Customized bling shirts and rhinestone heat transfers

tylersculinary

Tylers culinary blog

The Chalk Outline

the blog home of mystery writer Jeff Markowitz

THE ALT TO THE ALT

★ KURTBRINDLEY.COM ★

Mik Mob's Music Mass

share YOUR favourite tunes with The Mob

Riley Amos Westbook

A fantasy Author with too much free time on his hands that likes to Support Indie Authors.

terry73's Blog

A fine WordPress.com site

To Boldly Go

My mission to seek the Lord and to boldly go where He leads me

pgcps mess - Reform Sasscer without delay.

Fight corruption in PGCPS. Innovate, Change and Transform - Create Transparency and Accountability Initiative.

12 Week Weight Loss Course

Losing Weight & Looking Great!

On The Heath

where would-be writer works with words

Amanda Dyer

Founder & Creative Director at Maison by Amanda Dyer & Editor-in-Chief, Living 360 Magazine & Mompreneur 360 Magazine

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

Journal Edge

An online blog with highly informative, cheerful and inspirational articles for people who love travel to India with passion and make a different Lifestyle. Vikas Acharya is the founder and managing editor at Journal Edge Online Blog. Contact me to find out how I can help you create high-quality blog content, lead magnets, ebooks, and web copy for your business.

Art Attack

Discovering art in everything

What's Good?

Around the globe..

The Digital Inkwell

If poetry be the food for love, pen on.

Harga Timbangan

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