Wearing Her

Geetha Balvannanathan's Blog - Isis Tratum

Wearing Her

16 October 2017

wearing pinterest com 4 Courtesy pinterest.com

Splitting ache

Within the bosom

Standing guard

With regard

Consideration for her

As the wolf pack moves

Stand at ease

Neither lead nor tease

Discover

Underneath

Flying her colours on face

Mark engraved like ace

Clear patterns

For my perusal

Wearing Her

Like a glove

Heaps of laces dissolving

My mind revolving

Reading of the poem: 

Sen Gelmez Oldun – Alihan Samedov

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The Tower by Vivian Zems #writephoto

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

(#flash fiction)

Peter heard his own voice becoming more hoarse as he continued to shout up at the window of the tower. He had dreamed of this moment for months and was euphoric with excitement. He stopped to catch his breath, took another gulp of air and shouted at the top of his lungs, “RAPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL! LET DOWN YOUR HAIR!!”

The tower window flew inwards and an angry-faced Rapunzel leant out-sans hair.

Continue reading: The Tower – Smell The Coffee

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Cristian Mihai

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Tokyo’s convention and art center…

This magnificent building is Tokyo’s convention and art center. The large-scale cultural complex has a total of 11 floors above the ground and three basement floors, a total floor area of 145,000 square meters. Hall A has 5,012 seats with 16-language simultaneous interpreting systems that assure complete support for full-scale international conferences. The first photo …

Rain

Pattimouse

By Patricia Harris ©2017

Even perfect days
can end in rain,
Soft mists that barely cover
Or wrenching downpours
That wash away
The emotional bubble.

Dancing in the wet,
Playing with the moment
Much as a child unsupervised.
Pretending that all
Our troubles are forgot,
Yes, even a perfect day
Can end in rain.

Rain, though it symbolizes
Dreary, dark moments
Can bring a pause,
A simple time to let go,
To play as the clocks hands
Move across the tic tocking
Of adulthood.

Release,
Allowing joy to wash off
Stress, pain, tension,
And then to leave us
In a forgotten moment
In the lost minutes of
Childhoods hour.

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