Quoted in the Grove:
In the middle of life it happens that death comes and measures man. The visit is forgotten and life continues. But the suit is made, quietly.
~Tomas Transtromer
To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.
~Mary Oliver
This is true happiness: …To have the stars above, the land to your left and the sea to your right and to realize of a sudden that in your heart, life has accomplished its final miracle: it has become a fairy tale.
~Nikos Kazantzakis
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Posted from the Grove:
Another week has come and gone with no time left for the Impromptu exercise at our club’s Thurs Word Games. One begins to appreciate choosing the apple in Eden, when the options here are the work of writing and the seductions of Chat; but the purpose of writing is the purpose of this club and these Thurs meetings. To bring practice more in line with this goal, a set time is being established to start Impromptu each week
The usual meeting time still applies (5 pm PT / 8 ET), but the work of Impromptu starts an hour later at 6 and 9 pm, respectively. To speed the prompt decision along, everyone attending should be vigilant week-long for the one word or theme they’d like to suggest. The usual mashup can proceed from there (an ugly process similar to the making of sausage and laws: see Prewritten below )
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Prewritten for Thurs (03/21) 5 pm Pacific/8 Eastern is: ledge, moors
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@Writers Platform
Glass Table: (previously reviewed: pr)
~Greenie: Silent Song (pr) To Catch a Spill, Within This Day, Glimpses, Were I (pr 3/7)
~AidenScott: ~A Broken Map ~
The fun years, brutal years of discovery and disappointment, brilliant hopes and wild abandon, feeling abandoned, the first agonies of learning goodbye, the hard truths of arriving at Self with nothing reliable to use as a map; all the joys of life under the rubric of youth looking for a reason to carry on
~HOME~
Pecan trees, five in number, launching pads for a lad to stellar heights of imagination; dream havens, each a fortress of unquestioning love with views to last memory for life; even now they stand, veterans of the seasons and years, full-proud with the dignity of survivors still giving in return for the privilege of life
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Prewritten: pillow talk
~Stejovis: no title
Last of the day late-night talks, muttered answers, cozied grunts and chuckles, soft laughter in the dark … but that was then
Also a tanka poem, and the following ‘bastardized haiku’
long langorous love
like lolling liquid labor
leaves little lacking
~Greenie: Feel Me Love, A Spilling of A Dream
Legends speak of spirits of seduction who are evil in their dealings with humankind, yet incubus and succubus meet tenderly in their own world of dreams and love
~Piffin: Saint Rita
Patron saint of lost causes and abused women is called in as God’s mechanic to fix things spiraling out of control … too late
~BarTalk: pillow talk
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Impromptu: none
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Writers in Residence: No new reports, no rounds this week
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