Condemned For Loving Too Much. All was quiet in this forgotten town,. Because of the record snow tumbling down,. Yet in the plaza crowds were shopping still,. Looking for entertainment to get their fill,. There were walkers, and talkers, shops all ablaze,. Restaurants still open but countless delays,. Was waiting patiently and talking to a friend,. Somehow, she noticed him, standing off from the crowd,.

I think it is finally time to have my hair cut short now. Anyone who know me has seen me with long hair for most of my life. I will post a picture once it has been done, which will be this week sometime, inbetween other appointments. Here are some styles I have been looking at. I wonder which one I will choose. Can hairstyle this be the one for me.

Water rushes in and out. Furious waves are all about. Mock on me, Athene.

To me, Twitter seems to be the most difficult for me to integrate. I use it to follow politicians, the occasional sports figure, and many of my favorite soap opera stars.

Reaching the parts of your mind that other blogs merely make a feint at. We talked for a thousand years. Through drizzle dark and dreary. We came to a city in chaos. That teemed with men in black. And a wind that bit hard. We dreamt of midnight summer. To the halls of exchange.

A collection of short stories and poems written by yours truly. Diams; October 1, 2013. May the Lord watch between me and thee while. We are apart one from another. If only he could go somewhere where I could go. Not deeper into alone, for if the dead float then. I could still reach him. But in order to enter the. River I must learn to swim he was always a. Natural at that while I was consumed with fear. Maybe God would let me unravel the stitches.

A deep,dark,lonely well. Filled with wishes desperately hoped for. With many a secret untold. From the faint,bitter taste of salt. From whence tears did fall. A well can run shallow. When the dark,hidden rivers fail. And the rain passes by. Oh the darkest well of my silent soul. My sorrow it dost hold. Of which none will never know.

Politics, IR, Media. Look forward to hearing from you. I hear the church bells ring. The old door creaks as they walk through. These folks who drove all the way. To be here just for our special day.

Can I sit idle? Perched on a cloud forever? The image bores me. I pray the answer is no. And breadth of His creation. I pray the answer is yes. Juvenile Sharp-shinned Hawk Looking for Lunch. Our future is not now written. October 6, 2011 18 Comments. Otherwise do not come back.