Hard was the shell of pale skin
which encased his brittle bones
tightly
like desert-dried plaster
on the gnarled branches
of a dying tree.
Hard was the shell of pale skin
which encased his brittle bones
tightly
like desert-dried plaster
on the gnarled branches
of a dying tree.
Poésie sous les étoiles
TemptationOfWords
by Lize Bard
A Podcast About the Writing Life
Welcome to my world.
"Diving into a writers soul is discovering the broken treasure and beautiful mysteries that make you gasp for air."
Word-Experimentalist
"Eye Fly High"
WELCOME TO om3ssa's MUSIC FREAKISHNESS AT THE WORLD WIDE WEB
let the conversation begin
Paradigm Shift, Mindfulness, and Personal Empowerment
But Still Living The Life
food family & fun
Conjured by Sarah Doughty
Oh! Take a shit, read a story. - My Mother on flash fiction
"Die Kunst ist eine Tochter der Freiheit." - Friedrich Schiller
Trancension's VoiceBox
we are fish that play in a sea of light
Critical. Crazy. Catastrophic.
The wildest thoughts appear tamed when art is created out of them through writing.
My motherhood journey
Puking up Poetry, One Verse at a Time
The chronicles of a new father
