Poet
Novelist
Linguist & Aspiring Polyglot
Bibliophile
You are the sunset. When does the sky Change colors? The sun and earth met And the horizon burned bright. They were passionate lovers.
By Lucia B.3 years ago in Poets
Oh that you should come like a summer rain It falls cool and gentle upon my face Until the clouds again for sun make way
Through fields of wildflowers I wander The blossoms with passions unbridled bloom Before their joy and beauty I ponder If I will have the cheerfulness they do
It seems a lifetime since that summer day Perhaps I sought myself in the cobblestones Baked by the sun and worn by the decades
“There is no one so indecisive as the sea.” “What do you mean?” Adi asked. “Well, the sea rushes out and away from us- from the land. But then she comes quickly back, as if she fears her own depths. And then just as quickly, she flees the land again! When will she make up her mind?”
By Lucia B.3 years ago in Humans
The world was silent, sleeping. The ocean, however, lived more vigorously in the night. When the sun shined, the water glistened peacefully, but under the force of the moon it breathed a new life. The waves rushed upon the shore and crashed heavily against the rocks before once again pulling quickly away to the comfort of the depths.
A good salesman is selling, not a product, but a solution. Why? Because the secret to choice is value. When I cuddle up with my hot chocolate and a fuzzy blanket on a rainy day, what do I value? When I’ve been stuck in my home for a year trying not to infect my community with covid, what am I craving?
By Lucia B.3 years ago in Journal
They say there are four oceans Really there is one Wrapped around the planet we live on Divided up for a con It is cool and fresh and blue
You say poetry is nonsensical that it is overly emotional and thus encourages the delusional To the point of being inconsolable
“He who has a ‘why’ to live can bear almost any ‘how’.” -Friedrich Nietzsche Late April, 1961. Soviet Outpost, Antarctica.