I have written a few posts on writing in my life. Some of them I even published. For the most part, they all are rather appreciating towards the art of writing words down.

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With a ruined mascara she kept sliding fingers across her cellphone screen. staring at men who failed to love her swept by like tides, one by one. Because, I relentlessly believed that you had madness sprinkled on your bones. but, there was no one daring enough to penetrate into the wilderness.

This planet is nothing like the brochure. No need to feel sympathy. We are the heirs of our own damnations,. It takes but two to turn the tide,. To tip the cauldron deep inside,. To set the gains of man aside.

Life, love, and the pursuit of things lost or longed for. Or maybe its for believers. Or was I the believer? Maybe I just sucked you dry. Or maybe you never believed. The low hung ceiling of. It is what it is. We all play our roles unaware. By the suckers and believers. I hear my mind call your name randomly throughout my day.

Is it really news that academic publishers are highly profitable while libraries are not? June 3, 2015. From John Ralston Saul to academia, with love. Winners of the Fiddlehead Annual Writing Contest Announced.

Sorrows come and you know why. In the end all things work out. All these things you do with care. Meantime help me to stay strong. Never falter from your word. No more sorrows or pains to bear. This life is mine to love and care. Troubles come and always go. But in the end I have a choice.

The Story of Ted and Vickie.

We were sitting beside each other. 8216;The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks. Sometimes my cat looks at me strangely. Like there must be a ghost. Hovering somewhere just past my shoulder. I turn my head and the ghost disappears. Before I can see it. Perched in the cross of the telegraph pole. The beauty of the sea.