Quoted in the Grove:
To see ourselves as others see us is a most salutary gift. Hardly less important is the capacity to see others as they see themselves.
~Aldous Huxley
A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley
We have to start treating each other as if we are treating ourselves living another life.
~Joe Rogan
~~
Posted from the Grove:
A new feature at the Platform in Wordgrove: Whitefeather is allowing some of her photographic art to be part of an ongoing display for visitors of WG to enjoy. Her work is haunting in its beauty. Stop by soon to be introduced to this new venue for the graphic arts in There.
~
Prewritten for Thurs (04/17) @6pm PT/9 ET is: a pic
http://ishtari.arcticworlds3d.com/therestuff/zzz23.jpg
~
“Northern Seas”
Jessalee’s winning entry in Aluria’s Poetry Jam, 03/28
“The Getaway” they called it
but a beach can’t be all it
It’s not just the sea
That makes a vacation for me.
And though I was wary
of going north for my time off
I found the low price very
Hard to brush off.
Enter me, Maine at high tide
No palm trees, wearing long sleeves
Brochure picture lied
And I tried to believe…
That as I removed my shoes
Dug my toes in the sand
I had nothing to lose
And nowhere else was more grand
Strolling this infamous beach
That shared the same views
Of mansions within reach
No longer feeling any blues..
Though I saw them more clearly
These blues of the sea
And revelled more dearly
In this time meant for me.
The horizon was not flat
With wild ocean cresting
And my life felt like that
Now active now resting.
So I let myself be free
Loved the misty caress,
Let myself be me
And the ocean do the rest.
By Wordgrove’s own: Jessalee
~~
@Writers Platform
Glass Table:
~Piffin: “Doug” (qif)
He did not swim
Where the others swam
He preferred the shade to the light
‘Neath the bush
By the overgrown beaver dam
He did most of his swimming at night
Not for him was the spring
Nor the flowering thing
Nor the tadpole, the hatchling, the kit
When the meadow was strong
With the nightingale’s song
He’d grumble, he’d curse, and he’d spit
He avoided the flocks
And hid by the rocks
When picnics of people arrived
He did not float
Near dock or boat
When paddle broke water, he dived
He did not play
Where the others played
He shunned the warm grass for the muck
Alone he would trudge
Feet slapping the sludge
Doug was a private duck
~
~Greymane: The Places I’ve Hidden Inside (qif)
The shadows that haunt me all whisper my name
in places I’ve hidden inside
They torment and taunt me and laugh at my shame
while traces of truth are denied
I’ve wandered the labyrinth built in my mind
I’ve stumbled through darkness alone
Dragging the shackles of freedom behind
I ran from the hell I was shown
Too far from tomorrow I waited in pain
the comfort of dreams never near
I bartered my sorrow with nothing to gain
and traded my future for fear
I hid ’round the corner and danced on the ledge
and searched for the way I had come
The cries of each mourner were wrapped in a pledge
that left all their promises numb
A shivering chill had filled me with dread
confusion was falling like rain
I trembled and bled from the pain in my head
Illusion had opened a vein
Lost in the prison I carved in my soul
I stared in the face of my doubt
my spirit had risen from out of it’s hole
and finally crawled its way out
~
Prewritten: a pic
http://ishtari.arcticworlds3d.com/therestuff/zzz23.jpg
~Piffin: “Autumn” (qif)
Every day is autumn
This soft catastrophe
Misty rain in a seaside town
Every day is autumn
You knew that it would be
Still, I feel that I let you down
Every day is autumn
A crisp and fragile thing
Of bright stars in sad symphony
Every day is autumn
I’d hoped for one more spring
But every day is autumn
With me
~
~Greyman: Empty Place (qif)
She wrapped herself in leaves and light
and cried beneath the moon
The seasons of her soul inviting
Winter back too soon
Sheltered from the chill embrace
of moments set in stone
She hides them in an empty place
that Autumn leaves alone
The cold caress of Winter’s breath
that dances in her soul
Protects her from the silent death
that seasons can’t console
Moonlight painted, lost in dreams
Her freedom finally found
Her heart believes when Autumn screams
The last leaf hits the ground
~
~whitefeather: “Autumn’s caress” (qif)
Your
breath,
sends shivers
like dawn’s fingertips,
gently painting a blush of
scarlet red, free falling
upon soft subtle
shadows of
my
n
a
k
e
d
n
e
s
s
~BarTalk: Mounted
~
Impromptu: carouse, vanity
~whitefeather: (Last week and this week)
Vain lady in red
their savage fornication
tore his soul apart
~
(Late drop: 03.26)
My slutty girlfriend
Ostrich feathered purse in hand
Carousing weekend
She just might need a kickstand
Standing before the reverend
~
~Greymane: Taters (qif)
Deep in the jungle so savage and green
There lived an old witch doctor wickedly mean
He danced ’round the fire pit casting his spell
Calling on powers from rain forest hell
Commanding the natives to bow at his feet
His vanity fed on his endless conceit
Convincing them all of his eminent worth
They started to notice his notable girth
Sudden disaster was soon to befall
The villagers boiled him taters and all
~
~BarTalk: fame
~ . ~
Wordgrove Post & Review 
