AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes

AUSTRALIA ~ The Antipodes
I love a sunburnt country / A land of sweeping plains / Of ragged mountain ranges / Of droughts and flooding rains / I love her far horizons / I love her jewel-sea / Her beauty and her terror / The wide brown land for me / ~ Dorothea Mackellar (1885-1968)


Monday, March 31, 2008

Requiem Driven Strings ~ Two for Tuesdays Prompt VI

Christmas is usually a time to celebrate
The birth of a holy child
But for some
There are a few requiem strings
Attached to a young boy
Who needed time out
From exams
To clear his mind
To the depths
Of a river
Near his home
Some hear the music of stars
At Christmas
See glittering gifts
And read the colours
Of happy cards
Some hear
Water music
Tumbling over
See old grey storm clouds
And read the crumbled
Fading note
Yet again

3WW LXXV ~ I submit my term paper with bonus poetry ~ Apology + Distant + Consider

This is a humble apology for not submitting my term paper on time.
I forgot to re-plug my plug into the socket
After the horrendous thunderstorm had passed over.
I did not want all my distant learning to go to waste
So pulled the plug on all electric connections
Just in case I was zapped inadvertently.
So when I was back online
I was just using the battery
To complete my masterpiece ~
And the battery died
Before I noticed its death thoes
You see
I was so engrossed in your set work
I simply did not notice
As you see
Does not always pay
The final result was
I not only had a blank
Dead screen
But my term paper
Now did not exist ~
There was simply no opportunity to save it
So, my lateness is due
To a total overhaul
Of my thoughts
On a borrowed laptop
You see
I have sacrificed my comfort for
Dedication and
Before you consider
A penalty
Please reflect on this remarkable excuse
I have concocted ~
And at least give me a few
For entertainment

3WW LXXVII ~ Acupuncture ~ Apartment + Began + Numb

Pic from Tree Hugger This is Tribeca Green, Battery Park City, New York City. The roof is irrigated with harvested rain water, and recycled water from the apartment's toilets.
Since time began
Man has wanted some Eden space ~
Some picnic playground ~
An allotted escape
From the wheels of the world
But slowly
Apartment towers
Remind us that we must watch
The traffic
And the best Eden
Is the numb one
Of acupuncture

3WW LXXVIII ~ Whose Money Tree? ~ Money + Tangled + Understood

Tangled in the money tree
Is your bank account
Not mine ~
I understood
A long time ago
I simply take my money
And add it to
My burden

Leech Woman ~ Prompt #45 ~ for Easy Street Prompts

Africa is the place to find secrets
The secret for combatting aids
Could be held in
Growing wild in the Western Cape
And in the hills of Zululand
Holds some of the greatest secrets of all ~
The secret for curing obesity ~
The scarce Hoodia plant ~
Coffee in the desert is no problem
With roots from the Shepherd Tree ~
And the Devil Thorn ~
Great for puncturing the feet
Of soldiers and horses ~
Completes its whole lifecycle
In just two weeks
(So find them fast!)
And if you think the cactus
Must hold the greatest secrets
Of all in Africa
You think wrong!
No indigenous cacti grow in Africa ~
They are all imports ~
(It is no secret
That prickly pear varieties are an
Unadulterated pest)
The secret for eternal youth
That is the story for dreamers ~
Especially filmakers
Who think the cradle of answers
Lies in darkest Africa
A sci fi African jungle
Captured on film in the 1960's ~
Orchid pollen
Combined with the pineal juices
Of the newly dead
Creates the wine of eternal youth
It takes a hungry woman
To ravish the blood of men
In the passion of love ~
Like an Amazonian warrior
Bent on being a goddess ~
Like a Black Widow spider
In a world of the elusive
Black Orchid
Like a
Black Death creates
A Black Phoenix
Secreted in the tombs
Of Africa

Sunday, March 30, 2008

The Boardwalk ~ for Jane's Inspirations

Pic by Swinster94@Photobucket

4 Word Prompt: avail chaotic eschew frantic

Living at The Boardwalk the beach truely is your backyard. Here you can walk directly from your back door to the one kilometre long surf beach along the hardwood boardwalk that winds through the coastal dunes. This is coastal living at its purest. ~ The Boardwalk ~ Sunshine Coast Queeensland

(Warning: SURREAL ADVERTISEMENT ONLY! Elements of truth are here somewhere!)
So you thought a boardwalk was just some lonely string of wooden planks stretching out into some chilly stretch of water?
So you thought a boardwalk was just for life escapees and the odd crazy fisherman?
Think again!
Queensland's Sunshine Coast has a boardwalk made just for you!
*Live a dream by sunny tropical seas with stunning views of Mount Coolum nearby!
*Let chaotic living be just an unfortunate memory!
*Avail yourself of one of the home and land packages ~ strictly for dreamers with a sizeable bank account.

*The Pavillion is set low to sea level to capture every lovely sea breeze throughout the entire house. You may be lucky to wake to water by your bedside in the high tide season! But only if you're very lucky!
*The latest land release, The Waves, offers a mere 5 minute walk through coastal dunes to Marcoola Beach. There are no frantic roads. In fact, there are no roads at all near the sea! So sturdy shoes are strongly advised. Or you may prefer to go upmarket with a bike and extend your adventure on the biking trails to Coolum.

(Aside: *This is Green Living at its best, in spite of the fact you must eschew the hefty price tag to enjoy Green Freedom.)
**And a special feature of The Boardwalk are our exclusive outdoor showers, augmented by the rain when it feels so inclined.
P.S. Marketing is a wondrous but frantic thing. It can sell you a dream; make you pay the price for something that should really cost nothing except time and energy. It stirs a sense of urgency and "must have" with cost as a silent, devious partner.
So for now, I will accept the dream and nonchalently brush the price tag aside.
I will avail myself of my local Dromana Pier and walk the old wooden planks into the sea of Never Never Land. It is the best way I know to let sea breezes untangle chaotic thoughts. I eschew it will cost me nothing (except petrol) to drive down the mountainside to the beach. It's just a 5 minute drive with picturesque, well-kept softly-winding roads all the way!

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Corporate Risk Trapeze Artist ~ Prompt #44 ~ Easy Street Prompts AND The Gamble for Writer's Island

(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)

Cash flow risk

Earnings risk

Operations risk

Financial risk management


Cash flow river

Earnings tree

Operations logging


Circus animal

Trapeze artist

Ring Master





Send in the clowns


Friday, March 28, 2008

Torrid Cauldron ~ for Writer's Island

Think of torrid and you think of heat
Love affair
All human
Cauldrons of heat
But what might be
A torrid room
A torrid window
A torrid home
A torrid street
A torrid country
Is that the makings of
A torrid world
Of Aristotle's Torrid Zone?
The 2000 Olympics in Sydney
Showed how fire and heat
Can survive
The torrid games of life
Can find gold
In a cauldron
The lighting of the Olympic Cauldron was one of the most spectacular aspects of the 2000 Sydney Olympics. Cathy Freeman walked to a pool of water and as she swept the flaming Olympic torch across the water a ring of fire sprung from the submerged Cauldron. The flaming cauldron, with water cascading from its lower flutings then rose to be joined with the mast, which emerged from behind the northern stand of the stadium. The united structure ascended to a height of where it stood for the duration of the games. ~ Pic and comment from Sydney Olympic Park

3WW LXXIX ~ Answer Under Glass ~ Question + Token + Glass

Pic from British The Unusual Gift Shop

Your eyes were filled with a question
When I left you lonely and longing
As a token of my love for you
My answer is preserved in glass
My answer is conserved in glass
My answer is locked in glass
The glass is not shatter-proof

Quacky Cranberry Fling ~ Friday 5 ~ for Poefusion

Friday 5
(With apologies to the website Sweet Mullets for creating an alternative description of both the Belgian style India Pale Ale {an obviously delightful ale} and Cranberry Beer. But it is all in poetic fun and entertainment. There is no intention to discredit these products in any way!)
Belgian style India Pale Ale
Is worth a rash fling on the wild side
Pear and orange blossom scents blend
With a hint of mild, floral spices
To create a final sense of sweet
Quacky, malty, hoppy bitterness.
The perfect marriage of twin souls
American and European
Three great brewing traditions have come together to create a truly unique beer. Beginning in Great Britain, (1790’s), the British India Pale Ale was shaped by function, to get beer to troops and colonist in tropical climates without spoilage. The high alcohol and hop content warded off spoilage and the beer survived the five month trip from Britain to India.
cranberry beer is utopia
Deep purple wells in a bottle
With a malty sweet tartiness
An instant, warm flash of winsome sighs
For fresh cranberry; Wisconsin's state fruit
Will prey on the traveller's mind
Inspired by the brewing style of Belgian Fruit beers and being a native to the great state of Wisconsin the Captain developed this style to reflect his love for the Belgian brewing tradition along with his love for Wisconsin.

Spring ~ for One Single Impression

A spring is a naked healing place
Where souls find neutral hot waters
Where bathing in glowing earth embers
Becomes a crystal light journey
Crystal Journeys
Celestial song
In dawn colours
Bathing in the spring waters
Of morning
Siesta balm
In afternoon seas
Dreaming in the marmalade
Of middays
Lonely hour
In lonely spaces
Drunk on dark wines
Of midnight
Medicinal vapours of the earth
Are the breath of eternal spring
Relief from the pain of winter’s chill
And the hurt of a stony kiss

FOOTNOTES: In Arkansas the National Park Service estimates the hot springs in the "Valley of the Vapors" have been used for at least 10,000 years and respected as an honored and sacred place by the Indians. It was believed the springs were the home of the Great Spirit who in using His breath brought forth the healing warmth of Mother Earth. These springs were neutral ground for the Indians where warriors from all tribes could rest and bathe in peace, a refuge from battle. ~ Peninsula Hot Springs (pic from website)

In 1979, natural hot mineral springs were found deep underground on Melbourne’s Mornington Peninsula. On a 17 hectare property in Springs Lane near Rye, the 50ºC waters rich in healing minerals flow to the surface and into the thermal pools.

Peninsula Hot Springs opened in June, 2005.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

A Thought for Peace

IMAGINE PEACE TOWER is surrounded by a Wishing Well Wall on which the words "IMAGINE PEACE" are engraved in 24 languages. ~ Pic from Elding
Now is a good time to perhaps remember that it was only October 9, 2007, on the small Iceland island of Videy, that Yoko Ono unveiled John Lennon's dream ~ on his birthday.
Ono explained that the tower came to Reykjavík partly because she did not want it powered by fossil fuels and also because, “Iceland is in the north, and in mythology the north is where the power and wisdom comes from and we can spread the power downwards.” ....The light will shine every year from Lennon’s birthday (October 9) until the anniversary of his assassination (December 8), as well as on New Year’s Eve, the first week of spring and other carefully selected dates. ~ Iceland Review
Videy occupies a historical place in Icelandic history, being the location of the nation's first stone building and the site of its first church and a monastery.
"I have chosen Iceland for the Imagine Peace Tower because it is a unique eco-friendly country," Yoko Ono, 73, commented at a special conference.
"Eighty per cent of Iceland's energy is provided by water, not oil. Because of this, the air, earth and water are surprisingly pure and clean.

"Geo-thermal energy has made Iceland independent, and I think that Iceland is now more independent than any other country. ~ The Age
Perhaps, until the Olympics are complete, the Imagine Peace light could be turned on. After all, this is a special occasion for both One World, One Dream AND One World, Many Dreams.
P.S. INTERESTING FACTS: Iceland has one of the highest literacy rates in the world and one of the lowest crime rates in the world. For more interesting Iceland facts (check out bananas and Coca Cola) see Iceland Tourist Board.

Fire Bride ~ Prompt #2 ~ for Easy Street Prompts AND Totally Optional Prompts

(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)

Miss Havisham - Miss Havisham is the wealthy, eccentric old woman who lives in a manor called Satis House near Pip's village. (Pip is narrating his story many years after the events of the novel take place, there are really two Pips in Great Expectations: Pip the narrator and Pip the character—the voice telling the story and the person acting it out.) She is manic and often seems insane, flitting around her house in a faded wedding dress, keeping a decaying feast on her table, and surrounding herself with clocks stopped at twenty minutes to nine. As a young woman, Miss Havisham was jilted by her fiancé minutes before her wedding, and now she has a vendetta against all men. She deliberately raises Estella to be the tool of her revenge, training her beautiful ward to break men’s hearts. (Estella - Miss Havisham’s beautiful young ward, Estella is Pip’s unattainable dream throughout the novel. He loves her passionately, but, though she sometimes seems to consider him a friend, she is usually cold, cruel, and uninterested in him. As they grow up together, she repeatedly warns him that she has no heart.) ~ Spark Notes on "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens

20 minutes to 9
Time stopped
Frozen life
In Satis House
Heartbreak has nowhere to go
Once it is carved
Sharply in ice
One shoe
Graced the wedding foot
Yin and Yang
One soul
Turned karma into a weapon
Innocent youth ~
A child soldier
Who never knew
The games
Of a child
20 minutes to 9
Is an eternal flame
The phoenix into
A wrinkling
Fire bride

We're Just Friends ~ Prompt #17 ~ for Easy Street Prompts

(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)

We’re just friends is
Your platitude
Not mine
I can face the old track
To yesterday ~
Even in an old borrowed
Green velvet arm chair ~
But you just bring your formal
White-coated blindness
And pleasantly
Adopt the role
Of a plastic doorman ~
Bow stiffly in the doorway of yesterday
Open it for me ~
Then walk away
To your next
Sugar puppet
Your next
Iced mannerism
Your next
Stringy smile
But if you turn around right now
You may find
I hold the real red blood
Of your lipstick ~
The one that is not yours
The one you stole from me
The one you wear on
The back of your
White white
Jacket ~
The one you can’t see ~
The one I hold
Limp and grunged
In just one hand
Powered with boiling revenge
Tautly psyched for the next
Cannon shot
It is called
Betrayal ~
And I know ~
It looks remarkably like
The meaty coils of
A heart.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Waiting for the 9:15 ~ Prompt #46 ~ for Easy Street Prompts

(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)

Drama Queen
I know that’s what you think
Splayed out in party dress
High heels and all
In some old arm chair
I have obviously dragged
From some curbside
Junk dump
And here I am
Waiting for the 9:15
On a rusty old
Overgrown track
Which obviously has not seen
Any 9:15
(am or pm)
For quite some years
And the smoke approaching
Is quite clearly
Conveniently detoured
By an accommodating wind
From the old chimney stack
That also should be considering retirement
So what’s the game
You think?
As usual
All you see
Is what you want to see
As usual
You don’t see
I am the girl
10 years ago
You were going to marry ~
The 9:15 is your train
The one you meant to catch
But somehow
It slipped your mind
It was the last train
On the last run
But you retired from our destiny
The grass between us became overgrown
And the wind blew the smoke
Of our fire
Away from your view
So here I am
A discordant note
In the symphony of your time
From yesterday
This drama
Is your drama

Opaque Champagne ~ Drops of Poetry for Poet Sanctuary

Drops Of Poetry® Word Station--- Left click on any word below to drag it and start forming your poem! ---Words Updated On: March 15, 2008
but then be decide my would it aspire like ever you be while giving over of and brother as to ask Mother have for I not moody captive thought the any envious noble that knew wooden branch his sap Spring tulip lotus beauty the of scent smell flower bloom bud leaf a sit I charming President poetry by stable army in writing bending flowing falling deer wilderness white curl stones mist blind shimmering Travian field resource blood shed attack village alliance build troops gift I pink dye egg grass rabbit Easter blood goblet drink lamb goose feast God Sunday palm petal delicate green driven wanted wet little book television 1936 door lamp dragon fingers chair blossoms girl cat opaque shine bubble splash pour fizz champagne matches incense fireplace flirt wink candles giggle lit lipstick cordial sip vines winery ferment polish the I it we a an when then which on


Mist of
The beauty
Of the branch
By bending
Moody blossoms
On wilderness vines
And when
The sap
The incense ~
Falling ~
Shed it in

Memory ~ Playing Bridge ~ for Jane's Inspirations

Playing Bridge
Some summer moons ago…
I lingered away holidays…
Walking familiar drives…
Walking to seek a new look at the small things…
Missed in the daily haste of highways…
Imprisoned lanes
And traffic lights…
And there, tucked between gaudy facades
Of gummy colours and red hot sales…
Was a park…
A tall tall elm…
And a bench and table…
Tender coated shapes
Hunched over the table…
Poetically tapered fingers
Lightly held
A bunch of cards…
2 shadows…playing bridge…
I began to walk daily…
To the park…
Round the park’s elliptic secrets…
Through the park’s dappling lights…
And any time…
The dews of morning…
The glare of midday…
The hush of late afternoon…
2 shadows…playing bridge…
But that was many summer moons ago…
And today a friend told me
I should read a book called Geophysics for the Wandering Spirit…
A book lost in the dust left by
Gummy colours and red hot sales…
But still there…
A tiny crystal trapped in the web of progress
Waiting to be discovered…
The book was written by some guy with a PhD in Geophysics…
Who loved to play bridge…

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Other Side of the Fence ~ for Easy Street Prompt #29

(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)

Divisions, barriers, boundaries
Are just a few words for a fence
But unlike stoic, crusty walls
Fences have many viewing platforms
Many perspectives lurk in tiers
All framed in some tight, organized lines
Wooden or metal parallels
Hold a gallery of tactile frames
The other side of a picket fence
Is often a cottage garden
Budding with aromatic herbs
And nostalgic daisies and roses
The other side of a wrought iron fence
Is draped with sweeping royal walkways
Neatly clipped geometric hedges
And perhaps a King Charles corgi
A fence style is often a lifestyle
Parading a clear dimension
Where another side of the fence
Is another reality

I am the other side of your fence
I am landscape you dread to tread
I am some wild Serenghetti
Just a dot on some forgotten map
You are the silent, yesterday’s fence
You are the endless, lurking tiers
You are another murky fence
You are my other reality

Limestone Carvings ~ for Poefusion: Monday Mural

pic by dlfreund ~ Limestone Carvings

Like a frozen waiting game
Whitening expectancy ~
The prologue of dialogue
Stonehenge echoes
Longing for the sun or the moonlight
To make some sense of it all
But 4000 year old Callanish standing stones
On Lewis in the West Hebrides
Could be older links to
Celtic mysteries
Does that mean a closer connection
To the why
And the when?
Or can we only finger
Limestone icons ~
Turning them listlessly
In ignorant palms ~
And hope
The next chess move
Is the right one

Upstairs ~ Easy Street Prompt #107

(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)

The mind is a wonderful attic of cobwebs and secrets
A few pools of knowledge
And the occasional raindrops of wisdom ~

It is where the skies celebrate a seasonal corroboree ~
Storms, sunlight, dawns and sunsets
Wallow in a crucible of delights and agonies
Is the treasure trove
Of peeling family portraits
And the moment when some child
Simply drifted through life
On a garden swing

I have created a video using this poem.
The video represents how creative writing may live well in the digital world.
Click on the link on the right side bar!

Synchronised shopping ~ Easy Street Prompt #110

(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)

Shopping is not just shopping malls
Locked into temptation galleries
Where credit cards lean into debt
And morrows gum into yesterdays
The beauty of synchronized shopping
Is carrying an empty spirit
To a misty mountain by the sea
And letting the soul of the landscape
Buy you a hope laden dream
Free of use by dates and fashion fads

Monday, March 24, 2008

Hoodoos ~ Drumheller, Alberta

Pic by Monika-24 on Deviant Art
A crinkled world with grained secrets
Ancient pimply domes scarring earth's face
Frozen contortions like sphinx relics
Luminous riddles thatching Time
Like a moonscape of yesterdays
Begging to breathe alone; lost in peace

The Poetry of an Old Face

The years stroke the face with extra smiles
Hair sweeps long in wild abandon
He is all he needs or wants to be ~
Living mirror of destiny
But the eyes are charged with dynamite
Rare knowledge and fiery wisdom
All you need to know or want to learn
Is there glistening deep in his eyes

Margaret Atwood's "Surfacing" ~ for Totally Optional Prompts

Ever since reading "The Handmaid's Tale", for high school studies, I have been totally fascinated with the work of Margaret Atwood. But I have selected "Surfacing", her small second novel (of 1972), because this one seems to be fragmenting in the wake of more recent "heavies" such as "Blind Assassin" and "Cat's Eye."

The setting is a remote, wild island in a northern Quebec lake. The narrator travels here to find her missing father, and slowly finds it is actually a journey of consciousness, peeling away the layers of her own past. The young woman travels there with her boyfriend and two married friends. All shape the perspectives of her journey.

Using quotes from the novel as a foundation, I am the narrator voicing a kind of shredded, dramatic monologue.

I envy people whose parents died when they were young, that’s easier to remember, they stay unchanged.
My father is a vague being
Shaped by his island and people there ~

When I am ready I will find him
If he is ready to find me
Nothing is the same, I don't know the way any more.
Perhaps I am inventing pain
Because I fear to face our shared pain ~

Is it more hurtful to run away
And never know what truth there is?
Or face the shadows of agony
And free fall in a wise abyss?
I can't really get here unless I've suffered; as though the first view of the lake, which we can see now, blue and cool as redemption, which we can see now, should be through tears an a haze of vomit.
Billboards announce island lifestyles
Blue Moon Cottages sound so tempting
But peeling paint sours the magic ~
One diseased spirit knows another
Now I'm in the village, walking through it, waiting for the nostalgia to hit...but nothing happens.
I am a soft, damp parchment slate
Longing for a pen to find me
Longing even for some stray ink pot
To spill some ancient life on me ~
Even my mother's old diary
Is no key to what I should be
The weather and duties are noted
But thoughts and emotions are empty ~
I was not there at her funeral
I was just a blank page to her
Probably when we get there my father will have returned from wherever he has been, he will be sitting in the cabin waiting for us.
I need hope no matter how fragile
I must know I am shape and substance
He turns toward me and it's not my father. It is what my father saw, the thing you meet when you've stayed here too long alone.
Surfacing from deep water worlds
I know there is no heart in darkness

Friday, March 21, 2008

Déjà Vu Dreamcoat ~ for Writer's Island

Pic by Liv-one "Looking Back" on Deviant Art
It was a day of seering winds
And whining rains ~
When the soul needed
To huddle
In a room
Bristling with fires
And old memories
Time had forgotten
Till now
Still pin-balled
Around her mind ~
The visual horrors
Cranked by
Like convulsing
Skeletal frames
If only she had not been distracted
By new music
On the radio ~
If only
She had not reached ~
For just a second ~
To turn up the volume
Heavy metal music
May not have
A whole new meaning
Like discovering a dreamcoat
Déjà vu is coloured with wisdom

Surreal Worlds ~ for Totally Optional Prompts

Surreal by Rogervd on Deviant Art

In my mind

Sharing an exotic

Hawaiian cocktail


An endless ocean of bliss


In my mind

Dreaming on an endless ocean

Means touching worlds

Kissed by endless rainbows


In my mind

White purling skies

Refract blue light




In my mind

A touch of wings

Is just my soul


Surreal eternity




A place of beauty in the Western Tiers


View near Blackwood Park Cottages, Mole Creek

New Landscapes

New Landscapes
New Worlds

Archive of Blog Quotes

  • A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
  • Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
  • Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
  • Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
  • Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
  • Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
  • Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman

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