"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"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, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Mock Orange

 
Tulips, Wind and Sun, by Frank Schaeffer
official website


Orange Flower
by Diana Jiganie, Romania

Our friendship is but an orange flower
fragile child of our hearts
bound together
in time and space, endless chase
beyond madness, just a trace
of orange scent
oh, let me descent
in the late hours of the night
and there, out of sight
standing still
in the white morning chill
sweeter than a kiss
tears turning to bliss
i will hold you, protect you
heal you and fill you
orange flower of gratitude
seven years of solitude
an eternity of multiple choices
lost and found
forever bound
so close, yet so far
will it survive, the orange flower
from the first to the very last hour?



Orange Flowers
by PrettyKitty570, Newark, NJ

I used to keep orange flowers in my pockets,
And walk slowly around the soft green grass,
And smell the scent of the sweet nectar that rose into the air,
Hoping that the sweetness of my flowers would soon become my own.

Oh how I wish I still kept orange flowers in my pockets,
Hoping that their sweetness would soon become our own,
Hoping that they could somehow wipe away your tears and your pain,
Hoping that they could be a better friend than I ever was.

I once used to keep orange flowers in my pockets,
but orange flowers soon wilt to brown bitterness.