These two eBooks are 50% Off throughout July from Smashwords!
The Snow is not done with us yet. Not enough of you have been out to feel it and allowed it to creep close. It will return day after day until it is satisfied and like almost everything else in the world, satisfaction is not a state reached quickly. Few exceptions exist, but their acquisition is painful and consuming. You cannot have one without the other.
Time is an awful mistress and she will bend for nothing on this earth. Work is an expression of life, whatever you occupy yourself with. Everything is corruptible and you only have to look at the coast line for a good example; nothing stands the test of time. Values, cultures and beliefs change, die out, are reborn, become a shadow of themselves and disappear. Things take the place of other things. You change your furniture, change your clothes, rearrange your desk, realign your point of view, forget something, cheat yourself, hurt somebody, hurt yourself, swear you’ll never do it again, make a resolution, break a promise, fall down, pick yourself back up, gaze at the reflection in the mirror and think, “Am I……………?” Forget it and let the water rush in.
A beach is a beautiful thing, the canyons under the oceans are said to be some of the most wonderous mountain ranges on earth and the oceans themselves are as yet vastly uncharted. Who doesn’t like a mystery?
©Andrew Taylor 2019, All rights reserved
From, ‘The Whiskey Stories…A few years on it and still going, a drunk love story’
First, the dense green leaves; push sunward from between the cracks.
Sprouting from the over nurtured, the ill valued; prisons of possession.
The Dandies bid for life, to bloom, be free; prevailing through destruction and control.
Neighbours spray them relentlessly; Killer with killers.
Down on pristine knees; a homicidal mission.
One never understood that murderous desire.
Holding admiration for their persistence to live; punching through suffocating concrete.
Taking back the malnourished earth; grey to green.
Converting the controlled over preened to wild and free.
Children blow wishes into the ether from their seed heads.
How can one not appreciate the beauty, innocence, thirst for life and freedom mirrored in the Dandelion.
It offers much, this humble wild flower weed.
The regard of wild things as weeds, one may never understand.
Like unruly children and nonconformist adults; weeds of society.
Pests of the pretentious empty garden; still they persist.
(c) Natasha Sinclair 2019, All rights reserved.