Wordgrove Post & Review

Quoted in the Grove:
Wit is more necessary than beauty; and I think no young woman ugly that has it, and no handsome woman agreeable without it.
~William Wycherley

A witty woman is a treasure; a witty beauty is a power.
~George Meredith

For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.
~Virginia Woolf

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Posted to the Grove:
For those attending last Thurs Word Games (6/9), please note the change in order of Prewritten and Impromptu words for this week’s exercise.

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Prewritten for Thurs Word Games (06/16) is: lemon, comet

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@Writers Platform:
Glass Library Table:

~Daisy256: Hello

Hello again,
It’s me

Everytime I think life will resume to normal, I find the normal I’m referring to will never again be normal. This is the new normal.

One day, that normal will also change and life will shift again.

For today, I stop clinging to a past and trying to make it fit today, stop mourning a good past and remember with fondness instead of bereavement, grasp today with everything it has to offer, changes and all.

If we remain the same and normal is always the same normal, you’re not growing, you’re not living, you’re not progressing.

Push the limits, seize the day, seize your life. For everything that comes your way, you can choose to ride it and control the only thing you can… yourself.

I do so hope the normal of the years to come will include a little more There time though. I think of WG often and miss the late nights and good friends.

Take care of yourselves and be good to each other.

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Prewritten: beer, vagabond

~MissMerry: Prewritten by MM

The show is over,
the house lights are all dark.
The noise and confusion has ceased,
all encores and bows behind us.
Everyone has gone on to the afterparty-
not sure why I stayed behind.
I guess it is a little sad…
the end of all the work and rehersals
and the enjoyment of the audience.
But now it is all over, time to pick a new
script, a new project
starting all new, with old friends.
They are a wild bunch of vagabonds,
Free spirits bound only by their love of the arts.
I can smell a faint scent of skunk –
someone snuck a little weed in a dressing room,
I’m sure.
I take a swig from the warm can of beer in my hand
The quiet in the theatre is so intense
it echos in my head.
I walk to the center of the darkened stage.
Each step my heels click and
the grit of a bit of sand grinds under my shoe.
It’s funny, sometimes you have to hear silence
to make you really try to listen.
Why do we always look down
when we are in a high place,
As we also look up when we are at street level
near the tallest buildings?
The quiet is too loud…
I think I’ll go on to the party
and try to remember to really listen while I’m there.
🙂

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~BarTalk: so not ku-l

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Impromptu: skip, distracted

~MissMerry: haiku

How does this work now?
always a bit distracted –
Just skip to the end.

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~BarTalk: unku’l pass.ion

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