Quoted in the Grove:

Silence may be as variously shaded as speech.
~Edith Wharton

Silence remains inescapably, a form of speech.
~Susan Sontag

Silence is argument carried out by other means.
Che Guevara

Silence is the wit of fools.
~Anatole France

Summer, our season of silence
During this intermittent summer hiatus, it seems appropriate to feature quotes on the theme of silence, including pro, con and its other facets. Completing this week’s address of the topic, this closing thought.


In human intercourse the tragedy begins, not when there is misunderstanding about words, but when silence is not understood.
~Henry David Thoreau






Posted from the Grove

Keith Richards on Songwriting





Prewritten for Thurs 08/16 (6:00pm PT/9 ET): 2 of 3 ~ citadel, crater, cinema


~ . ~


Quoted in the Grove:
A vacation is what you take when you can no longer take what you’ve been taking.
~Earl Wilson

The ant is knowing and wise, but he doesn’t know enough to take a vacation.
~Clarence Day

There’s no vacation from being a parent.
~Chevy Chase


Posted from the Grove

Summer Vacation

Summer is when real life offers more compelling fun than online fun. This editor is in the middle of finishing a years-long writing project, and the time needed for this, plus normal work hours, means a summer break for readers of the Post & Review. A recent blessed event has made motherhood a factor in attendance, and the current Platform vibe suggests that the time is right for that vacation as well.

This editor will continue posting a weekly Prewritten prompt because he continues to find the workout a useful and healthy exercise, and he very much enjoys the drill. If others find the exercise worthwhile and drops continue on the Prewritten bench, the occasional newsletter will go out to include them. The weekly Word Games schedule is too deeply ingrained, so this editor will continue to show briefly at the usual Platform time to check for new drops. The door to news sharing and chat remains open.




Favorites From the Platform: Songs that made the Platform cry

~Don McClean:  Vincent   (3:57)

~Andy Williams:  Lonely Street   (3:06)

~Gilbert O’Sullivan: Alone Again   (3:44)





Prewritten for Thurs 07/19 (6:00pm PT/9 ET):  raven, build



@Writers Platform

Glass Table:
~thoreau: Very short story:
Last Day of Staycation

One final “home project” for this last day of our staycation week: weeding the driveway. It’s pretty hard-packed pebbles, good for absorbing the winter rains, but over the years plenty of tiny weeds, clumps of grass, etc have taken root. It’s warm but not hot today, so I put on a sunhat, start the poetry podcast playlist on my iPod, grab a bucket, sit down on a short stool, and start picking.

Every few minutes, having pulled every weed in reach, I shift the stool a couple of feet and continue. It becomes a rhythm, practically a meditation.

Some oregano from the herb garden in the corner by the sidewalk has started to put out new sprouts into the driveway. I decide to leave them alone, and let it continue to spread where it can — I’ve noticed a pleasant Mediterranean crushed-herb scent lately whenever I get out of the car, which seems like a good thing. The white and purple clovers as well, I leave alone. The bees like them, and I use the green strips as a target in the rear view mirror when backing into the driveway.


poem: summer moon

summer moon rises late:
the waning crescent carries
tomorrow’s morning

It used to be, before clocks, that people could tell time at night by being aware of the phase of the moon. The lighted part of the moon always points toward the sun — as an easy example, a full moon rises opposite to the setting sun, is at its highest point at midnight, and sets at sunrise.

One night, after a hot day, we had stayed up quite late waiting for it to be cool enough to go for a dog walk. As we walked, I noticed the crescent moon rising in the east, a thick curve with upturned points, and I realized that meant the rising sun was trailing not so many hours behind it. And the light I was seeing in that crescent was actually tomorrow morning’s sunlight, already giving a hint of the new day’s coming heat.


Prewritten:  stairway, arctic

Arctic Stairway

Polar opposites, he and she
White bears bearing
But not in the Bering
See, the arctic is barren
Too cold for baring
Barring a stairway
To the southern seas


Winter Blues

Bleak grey arctic skies
Cold tundra of her eyes
See, there, the sunrise
Months to Venus from Mars
Timed stairway, the stars


Dinner Guest

Two sets, different sizes
Hunter and the hunted
Diamond dusted prints
Stairways cross
Blood white arctic fox


Spectacles   (5-7-5 x 6)

arctic circle rave
aurora borealis
rainbow stairway staged
sharp blade, arctic glance
eyes for cutting steel, melting
one dared her stairway
horizontal stair
Way of The Gods light the night
arctic moon gone dark
Clock’s arc, tick of time
Medussa’s stare-way of death
Mirror’d. <end message>
stairway as doorway
arctic ice to tropic sun
journey, still the thing
stairway to doomsday
garden to cinder and hell
arctic’s new haven

~ . ~

Quoted in the Grove:
Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man.
~Rabindranath Tagore

Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.
~James Baldwin

We cannot always build the future for our youth, but we can build our youth for the future.
~Franklin D. Roosevelt

We don’t inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.
~David Brower


Posted from the Grove

Favorites From The Platform: Hugh Laurie

His Comedy: A Bit of Fry and Laurie   (29:17)

His Music:
~Hugh Laurie: Stagger Lee   (3:43)

~Hugh Laurie: Louisiana Blues  (3:24)

~Hugh Laurie: Unchain My Heart   (4:17)








Prewritten for Thurs 07/12 (6:00pm PT/9 ET):   arctic, stairway



@Writers Platform

Glass Table:

~Greymane: News about a Piffin!

Hello everyone, I may not make it in tonight..still up in the air but I have great and very awesome news about our Piffin! BABIES!!!!! healthy and strong and gorgeous. The last news that I received from PJ said that the babies were at home on Tuesday and that Elissa would be in the hospital a few more days. She is very tired and doing well. HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY !!!!!  ‘patch


If I don’t make it in, all have a great night or week and I hope to see you for Poker tomorrow.


~Greenie: Fingernail Moon

Fingernail moon
scrapes across the sky
shimmering through the leaves
as a breeze makes them sigh
Haiku Moon

The moon as a bowl
Filling the dark sky with stars
Beauty in the night




Prewritten: torpedo, frolic

~Greymane: Something More

Torpedo off the broken bow
Collusion on the shore
We’ll frolic straight to Hell somehow but pray for something more
We’ll wish we had a second chance but wishes follow need
We’ll gather for the coming storm to watch each other bleed
We’ll watch the fury fill the sky from where we dare to hide
We’ll huddle close and unify and build our strength inside
We’ll wait until the mourning comes and stand beside the light
pleased with what the world becomes beyond the endless night


~BarTalk: Initiation

Words, targeted missiles
Anger’s hundred torpedoes
Began as folly, in jest
In a contest to be best
Pledges frolic, one dead


animal friends

porpoises frolic
hyenas laugh
mosquitoes torpedo
but everyone’s honey is
the bee with a buzz on


Incidents (5-7-5 x 7)

“Frolics” on Broadway
torpedoed by the papers
scored with lots of skin
bad seed, jealousy
torpedoed reality
busted mid-frolic
torpedoes away
this beginning of the end
war’s fatal frolic
torpedoed talks end
a marriage beyond salvage
both wanna frolic
Torpedo Cigars
Rum infused, THC laced
Frolic in a tube
pocket torpedo
Fire at Will, came the order
November frolic
frolic on the beach
torpedo interrupted
lurking in the sand




Impromptu: parade

~Matttt: Parade

Thunderous marching
The bass and drums filled our breast
Strutting down the street

Surreal dragon floats
Candy is tossed in the air
Happy kids scurry

Twirling batons fly
The drum major steps up high
Strolling down the street


~BarTalk: 5-7-5 x 3

world grows one by one
parade of generations
hope grows two by two
red, white and blue flags
clowns, bands, politics parade
in garish display
men in camouflage parade
fodder for next time


~ . ~

Quoted in the Grove:
There is no better than adversity. Every defeat, every heartbreak, every loss, contains its own seed, its own lesson on how to improve your performance the next time.
~Malcolm X

Success does not consist in never making mistakes but in never making the same one a second time.
~George Bernard Shaw

The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.
~Henry Ford


Posted from the Grove

Favorites From The Platform:
~MuppetsHelen Reddy: Sing In the Sunshine   (3:23)

~Floyd, Dr Teeth & Zoot: New York State of Mind   (2:01)

~Muppets: Rainbow Connection   3:05)









Prewritten for Thurs 06/28 (6:00pm PT/9 ET): torpedo, frolic



@Writers Platform:

Prewritten ~ theme:  summer killed winter

~Greymane: WinterKill

There’s places only Winter knows and holds against our souls
She freezes all the warmer things that Summer’s heat controls
She lets the Spring have ferny things but rushes Fall’s caress
Her shiny frozen promises have led to her success

She thought she was the Season Queen and all the rest should bow
Summer swore to Spring and Fall to take her out somehow
He met her in an Autumn storm and blazed on her intent
She battered him with endless rain until her tears were spent
She hid his warmth in thunder clouds and washed the land below
He dried the flood with Winter’s blood but let her tempest blow

He told her that they needed her to nourish needy man
She said she’d try but deep inside it wasn’t what she’d planned
Summer smiled and understood, she’d promise anything
He waited ’til her shift was done and killed her in the Spring


~BarTalk: Torch Song

Hungers of a planet
Springboard to extinction
When summer killed winter
Fatal final fall of man
Or a chance to rethink


Events   (5-7-5 x 4)

spring ends a whimper
predates a long fall from grace
winters of summer
ducks, crawdad for friends
green summer days in the park
slay winter grey days
plaque in nearby space
midst debris ex-planet Earth
Summer Killed Winter
Elke Sommer’s knife
Found: Jonathan Winter’s back
His comedy killed



Some’re runners by nature
Race to win Turin’s prize
Down streets at full speed
Top gear flat out no fear
Like caged hamsters




Impromptu:   melody

~Greymane:  Lost

What would you offer for trade of your heart?
A promise that no one believes?
A whisper that tears my whole world apart,
A treasure I found on my knees?
A moment above all the chaos below
to spend in my arms every night
A melody lost in the turbulent flow
of which writers who write often write?


~Matttt: Melanie

It started off like this random pounding of chords on the keys. He really didn’t know what he was doing; But the more he did it, and experimented with different combinations of notes, the more he started to like it.

So, he kept at it. First he did it for hours. Later, he kept at it for days at a stretch. By the time he was able to sit for a full week, he started developing bed sores on his ass. But his chords were strong.

The girl next door would come home from work promptly everyday at 4. She would hum as she walked past his window. Later, he could hear her rattling dishes and clanging pots in her kitchen. He desperately wanted her to knock and ask about his playing. He knew she could hear it.

And then one day, the knock came. At first, he didn’t know what to do. He was in the middle of playing. And he didn’t usually or hardly ever stop. But he knew it was her. And this was the visit he had dreamed about.

So, awkwardly he forced his hands to stop… clattering out something discordant. Standing stiffly, stretching his legs, he could feel the blood flow back into them. Then he hobbled to the door.

She was beautiful! He had never really seen her before. He could hear her return, smell her perfume, and know that she was singing something. But she was a distant ghost before this moment. Now she was there, right there, standing in front of him. And his heart raced.

“Hello” he stumbled.

“Hello. I’m sorry to interrupt. My name is Melanie. I live next door. And I hear you playing everyday. So, I thought I would stop by and say hello.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry. Am I bothering you?”

“No no! Your playing is beautiful. I like it.”

“Thank you. Would you like to come in?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to get back to my dinner. But I was wondering… Could I make a request?”

“Okay. Sure.”

“You see, I’ve been hearing you play each day for the past 2 thousand years… And I noticed that you only play chords. I was wondering… Have you ever thought of playing one note at a time?”

He was dumb struck. There was a strange buzzing in his ears and a strange butterfly sensation his stomach. Some hours later, the sun had set and he was standing alone at his door as it started to get cold. And he didn’t even remember her leaving.

After shutting the door, he made his way back to the keys… and tried to remember what she said…

Lifting his finger, he struck a note… It sounded odd, all alone. So, he tried another. But that sounded even more strange, especially coming after the first one. So, he tried a third… off…. And a fourth… No…

And so he continued, trying random notes, hoping for one that would follow the other just right.


~BarTalk:  Concerto

Kettle drums of thunder
Raining notes in concert
Cacophony not harmony
Chaos not melody
Symphony of The Storm


Verse II

Light show striking wonder
Riveting score of rain
Competition in concert
Instruments for harmony
Clash without a melody

~ . ~

Quoted in the Grove:
Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.
~Theodore Roosevelt

Do one thing every day that scares you.
~Eleanor Roosevelt

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds…
~Theodore Roosevelt

The only way to assert the right to publish is to publish.
~Ben Bradley


Posted from the Grove


Piffin From The Platform:

~Paul Young:  Every Time You Go Away   (4:20)

~Gregory Abbott:  Shake You Down   (4:03)

~Fleetwood Mac:  Bleed To Love Her   (3:15)


Summer Reading List: by Piffin

Now that summer is here, a lot of us find extra time for reading; be it on the beach, beside a motel pool, sunning in the back yard. In case you don’t have anything in mind to read, I thought I might share a list of ten of my favorite novels. Every novel on this list is here because I have read it numerous times: some as many as three times over, a few as many as ten.

The list is in no particular order, but I hope maybe you will find at least one of them to your liking.

Have a great summer!

1. The Wasp Factory ~ Iain Banks

2. Winter’s Tale ~ Mark Helprin

3. American Tabloid ~ James Ellroy

4. Imajica ~ Clive Barker

5. Neuromancer ~ William Gibson

6. Shella ~ Andrew Vachss

7. The War Hound and the World’s Pain ~ Michael Moorcock

8. Siddhartha ~ Hermann Hesse

9. Foucault’s Pendulum ~ Umberto Eco

10. Illusions ~ Richard Bach


For the Coming Summer Travel Season:
Beyond Wanderlust — 30 Words Every Traveler Should Know






Prewritten for Thurs 06/28 (6:00pm PT/9 ET): summer killed winter




@Writers Platform:

Prewritten: off

~Greymane: Off

Often lost in fears of men where distance is a friend
Awful miles alone again still ages from the end
Warmer places just ahead that offer us a rest


Fair Trade

Chase is on, game’s afoot
A rivalry has taken root
Carry off the fairer sex
Married off no more debts
Her papa of the pampas



“Break a leg” to broken bones
Broken promises that neither owns
Knocked up, knocked about
Getting off, then getting out
Twins of Birth and Mother Earth
Love was good once, a dime bag worth


Situations (5-7-5 x 4)

unlisted option
get off your pear-perfect ass
encased in brocade
pistols drawn, smokin’
gunslinger’s deadly face-off
both right, fast, dead
sperm bank needs donor
why not let Anton Chekhov
spill millions for ink
Groundhog Day Stand Off
Warmongers versus Winners
M-o-m spells Mom


Impromptu: miles away

~Piffin: “Hide It Well”

These machines
Ignored by the nightshift girls
These tubes
These pills
These needles
These machines
Playing music from another world
Blood pressure alarms
Like angels
Look at the sky
It’s the color of airplanes
Look at the sky
I’m going nowhere
Look at the sky
It’s the color of airplanes
Look at the sky
This window at dusk
It’s miles away
Miles away
A lie
You’ll be better soon
A trip
Down the hall in a wheelchair
A slip
Of a tear
But I hide it well
Concentrate on the Rorschach bruises
Look at the sky
It’s the color of airplanes
Look at the sky
I’m going nowhere
Look at the sky
It’s the color of airplanes
Look at the sky
Or the floor
Or the needles
Look at the sky
Or the floor
Or the needles
Look at the sky
Or the floor
Until I’m miles away


~Greymane: Nonetheless

Lost between a moment’s breath and where the children play
A voyage from the day we met, a million miles away
She borrowed all my memories and molded me to hers
She chains my wisdom every time my arrogance occurs
I gambled on forgotten winds that barely filled my sails
I lost her in the tailspin with difficult details
Adrift aboard the atmosphere from here to aeons gone
A nap in my gazebo and flamingoes on the lawn
Alive I guess, a bit distressed
but happy all the same
Alone but I’m still kickin’
and still happy that I came


~Matttt: …And The Color of Her Hair

You said you didn’t feel the same anymore
But then you came around again

And then you said it again one night
And so, round and round we’ve been

So when you finally decided
You were walking out that door

You were already miles away
Before I knew you were here no more

Occasionally you stop by
And ask of polite things

And then you say you miss me
But that lie doesn’t fly from afar

You say you plan to return
But if you ever do
I think that I should keep you
Arms length, And miles away.


=== haiku.1.miles.away

Gazing out the door
Mesmerized with distant thoughts
He was miles away
=== haiku.2.miles.away
She could feel his gaze
Her hands trembled holding flowers
He was nowhere near
=== haiku.3.miles.away
He held his eyes sharp
Straining to see from up high
Wagons from miles away


~ElizaRubi:  : O

Did I tell you that I can read lines on the palm of your right hand? Yes, I can. First I’ll tell your past, so you’d believe me. And than I’ll describe you your future, so you’d have time to prepare for it, to meet it without fear. Of course, it is almost impossible for me to read it being miles away from you…but I try.

I can see you full of hopes and great expectations. I can see your first blow at the age of 25, your first serious disappointment…in yourself, something you did not expect. And it took a lot of strength to overcome it, to get back on your track.

I can see how excited you were when you got a new job, completely different that you did before. I can see the awakening of your ambitions, the time when the sky was a limit…

I can see everything…from miles away, I have this power. Do you want me to continue?


~BarTalk: twice distant

not here and not now
invisible, or might as well be
a phantom from the ether
hours that tick like eternities
miles away and not next to me
if there or then, I say
not either

~ . ~

Quoted in the Grove:
You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.
~James Baldwin

When you re-read a classic, you do not see more in the book than you did before; you see more in yourself than there was before.
~Clifton Fadiman

No two persons ever read the same book.
~Edmund Wilson

Self-education is, I firmly believe, the only kind of education there is.
~Isaac Asimov




Posted from the Grove

Piffin From The Platform: Beach Boys by any other name

~Fuzzy:  Girl Don’t Tell Me    (2:35)

~Lorrie Morgan & The Beach Boys:   Don’t Worry Baby   (3:17)

~MonaLisa Twins:  God Only Knows    (2:50)


Plus: Special Request
~Todd Rundgren: Onomatopoeia (for writers only – 1:35)


Also: From Rusty’s Electric Dreams
Dancing Without Moving   –  A complete goof   (5:04)






Prewritten for Thurs 06/14 (6:00pm PT/9 ET): word, countdown




@Writers Platform:

Prewritten: politics, orgasm

“Ninth” by Piffin

I think of all the plans I had, at night
When I am up alone

The politics of ordinary lives
Can wear us to the bone

So many lives inside my heart
I lose track of my own

The girl I was
Would never choose this road
If she had only known

I’ve never had an orgasm
I’m willing to regret
Or a broken heart
That I will soon forget
But every time I see myself
These days, I laugh aloud
Or cry
Depending on the crowd

I might not live the month out
Or I may
I’m okay, either way
At least I’ll leave a piece of me
To ruin someone’s day

I sit and watch the sun set
Beyond my quiet street
And everything I’ve done
Feels like defeat


Feels like defeat



The politics of excess
Of chaste vs chased sex
Kinky sex that money buys
Mating sex or otherwise
Free The Orgasm!


Center Entry Party

The politics of sex is
The question of access
With diplomatic entreaties
Disputed area in panties
Tag line: Organisms United
Union of Orgasmics invited


5-7-5 x 7

personal spasm
imperial politics
orgasms alone
political plants
bright red white and blue flowers
orgasm in beds
orgasms caught live
best friend’s wife, duck and a mule
now in politics
mud fence butt ugly
pet themselves to orgasm
political marriage
late life memories
played with ’60s politics
scoring the big O
promise anything
orgasms in every bed
politics for sale
who orgasms first
answer is never correct
answer is always suspect

~ . ~

Quoted in the Grove:
The most common form of despair is not being who you are.
~Søren Kierkegaard

What an odd thing a diary is: the things you omit are more important than those you put in.
~Simone de Beauvoir

The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another, and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.
~J M Barrie

Story, finally, is humanity’s autobiography.
~Lloyd Alexander



Posted from the Grove:

Piffin From The Platform:

~Avril Lavigne:  Anything But Ordinary   (4:11)

~Stroke 9:  Scream   (4:28)

~Garbage:  Blood For Poppies   (3:37)






Prewritten for Thurs 06/07 (6:00pm PT/9 ET):   politics, orgasm






@Writers Platform:

Prewritten ~ Theme: hitchhiking

~ElizaRubi: :o)

That word was “hitchhiking”
Which I wasn’t liking
But instead of the fighting
I better be writing
Because of strict timing
I have to stop whining


~BarTalk: Hitch / ETA / Hitchin’ Post


crisp morning, chirping
blushing dawn, waking roadside
first piss of the day

stop sign makes them see
someone in the rain thumb out
with a gun or not

blazing humidity
post-rain, puddle topped asphalt
sweating the next ride

the country slides by
thru another driver’s window
and I make it mine

thanks for the ride dude
I’ll leave this for you to try
but not all at once

busty and lusty
wanting something safe and strange
picked a hitchhiker

last ride of the day
do dishes after supper
sleep inside tonight



Kind rides freaky notable
Roads prove undependable
Arrive late or not at all
When the road forks


Hitchin’ Post

The Road, school master
Equal measure of pleasure
Thumb-stranded disaster
What was might have been
Casting fate to the wind





~Piffin: [May 31]

Wet grass cricket chirp
Pull into the parking lot
Shotgun in my coat


~Greymane: untitled

Man-packed gunnysack
Married her a handsome jack
shotgun in his back


~MissMerry: untitled

Out until the dawn
It seemed like a good idea
Panties in her purse

Having too much fun
Daddy told Boyfriend “Hold up!”
shotgun wedding time!


~Matt: untitled

Running finger down
The gun metal oil was clean
Shotgun moonlight gleam


~BarTalk: 5-7-5

ring and a shotgun
strung out shore leave, wedding vows
first love, then to war


~  .  ~