But who sees me? I am my own hiding place. The day we trekked along the Rio Celeste. And I was so angry. I wanted to leave you behind. To pick buttercups which you photographed. We had gifted him our foreign coins. A sky sedate with rain. All day seeping into my eyes. Through paths of muted brown. No blue was to be seen. Like how I wanted to be. Alone now that we were.

With sadness but no regret, my writing at Beyond the Bozone is complete. The blog will remain archived here. I may remove pieces if I choose to revise them for publication. All of the work here is mine. Read it and enjoy it. Your presence here is what makes blogging worthwhile. Please visit my new Wordpress blogs gathered stones. Where I hope you will find the commenting more friendly. With your tail so sharp. And your aim so true.

One of us tore a limb off. The last thing I remember is holding on tight. The moon is a penny tonight. Copper rolling across a black sheet. Dimmed by smoke from an old distant fire. The days sticky the nights fitful. Drawing on a great well of nothing. A moon just a moon. Smoke just carbon and water. I am not the voice in your head. You only adore me in the dark.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016. In Fear of Separation, A Selfish View. I send out my book as I send out my child,. Stuffed so full of glee, despair,. Of nights awake and joy and fear,. Of me the world might see. Will they survive the burning flames,. The doubts of men,. New thoughts, new names,. That I did not intend? And will they come to me again. Will I be cursed, or blamed? Friday, March 25, 2016.

This is a poetry,prose,Haiku and writing site. Friday, September 21, 2012. We shall over come in glory. Wednesday, September 19, 2012. To all my Jewish friends. Light your lights of love. Through the mists and clouds. Sweet one come to me. I will call thee home. Greet me with the dawn. My heart longs for you. Come escape this magic place. Brake free of all chains.

Written to this image prompt from Magpie Tales. Like the tidal sea,. A center in a cotton skirt,. Heavy at the hem,. Flaring circle standing out,. Bare feet dancing with the dirt;. Once, on the western porch. Once, on the western porch. I watched lightning flash west south and north. While one man played flamenco tunes. Beside the deep set brass doors.

With God consciousness at the center of our perspective on Life, We begin to see the Splendour of Colour, the Gift of Vitality, the Possibilty of Renewal, Growth and Abundance. A Passion for Striving emerges. Posted on June 1, 2013. If a June night could talk. If a June night could talk.

Notepad Scribblings of a Hobby Poet. For the Memoir in Poetry, part 2. This is my greatest accomplishment, that I keep going; yet not in my own strength but that of Another. Could be fatal, they said. And there I lay, diseased and.

My experiences with all things Italian, from Italian friends, to the beautiful language, to the wonderful country of Italy. Ah, beautiful Chianti! I had never been to the Chianti region so Umberto and Francesca decided to spend a Saturday showing me around a bit. What did I buy? Greve market, Mmm. ciligie secco! Panzano has that old world charm we see in photos of Italy. It is not a town that sees .