Category Archives: Writing

LONGING

Black and white portrait of tired little girl with sad eyes. Shallow DOF

 LONGING

 

I long to return where my heart’s song began

The quaint city by the ocean I once knew so well

How I long to play along her sugar white shore

Swim in her ocean as deep and as blue as my longing

I long to jump up and down amidst her ocean floor with it’s scattered sea shells that tumble and stumble, all the while, tickling the tips of my toes

Crash about in her ocean waves as if I were a discarded cork, bobbing freely, just me…

 

 

©2011  Angela C. Soelzer Ragosa

 

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I’ve been… A Poem

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I’ve been young

I’ve been old

I’ve been weak

I’ve been bold

I’ve been rich

I’ve been poor

I’ve known what it’s like

To want so much more

I’ve lived out my days

And been up all nights

Yet, I’ve learned to fight the fight

I’ve been weak

I’ve been strong

I’ve walked a crooked path

For far too long

I’ve been grounded

I have fled

I’ve been alive

I’ve been dead

I’ve been generous

And I’ve been kind

I’ve been reckless

And fallen behind

I’ve been high

I’ve been low

And through it all

This much I know

Today, my feet are planted firmly on the ground.

 

Angela C. Ragosa

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Summing Life Up…

Food for Thought:

edited in flickr

“I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”

-Agatha Christie, An Autobiography

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No excuse

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Get your creative juices flowing…

photo: Getty Images

No excuse

by Samantha Reynolds

Don’t tell me
you are not inspired.

That is no excuse.

Creativity doesn’t land;
it is earned.

So wrench your eyelids open
cackle at the keyboard
stomp your feet

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There’s No Such Thing As An Uneventful Day…

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“Not one day in anyone’s life is an uneventful day, no day without profound meaning, no matter how dull and boring it might seem, no matter whether you are a seamstress or a queen, a shoeshine boy, or a movie star, a renowned philosopher or a Down’s-syndrome child. Because in every day of your life, there are opportunities to perform little kin

dnesses for others, both by conscious acts of will and unconscious example. Each smallest act of kindness—even just words of hope when they are needed, the remembrance of a birthday, a compliment that engenders a smile—reverberates across great distances and spans of time, affecting lives unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo, because kindness is passed on and grows each time it’s passed, until a simple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage years later and far away. Likewise, each small meanness, each thoughtless expression of hatred, each envious and bitter act, regardless of how petty, can inspire others, and is therefore the seed that ultimately produces evil fruit, poisoning people whom you have never met and never will. All human lives are so profoundly and intricately entwined—those dead, those living, those generations yet to come—that the fate of all is the fate of each, and the hope of humanity rests in every heart and in every pair of hands. Therefore, after every failure, we are obliged to strive again for success, and when faced with the end of one thing, we must build something new and better in the ashes, just as from pain and grief, we must weave hope, for each of us is a thread critical to the strength—to the very survival of the human tapestry. Every hour in every life contains such often-unrecognized potential to affect the world that the great days and thrilling possibilities are combined always in this momentous day.”
― Dean Koontz, From the Corner of His Eye

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The City

New York city - 3 Sep 2010 - Times square

by Constantine P. Cavafy (1910)

You said, “I will go to another land, I will go to another sea.
Another city will be found, better than this.
Every effort of mine is condemned by fate;
and my heart is — like a corpse — buried.
How long in this wasteland will my mind remain.
Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look
I see the black ruins of my life here,
where I spent so many years, and ruined and wasted.”

New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas.
The city will follow you. You will roam the same
streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods;
in these same houses you will grow gray.
Always you will arrive in this city. To another land — do not hope –
there is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you have ruined your life here
in this little corner, you have destroyed it in the whole world.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/19/nyregion/if-you-cant-make-it-here-watch-out.html?_r=1&ref=poetryandpoets
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I am not eccentric

 

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I am not eccentric.

It’s just that I am more alive than most people.

I am an unpopular electric eel

set in a pond of goldfish.”

― Edith Sitwell

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i like my body when it is with your body

10-Reasons-To-Love-Your-Body-Now

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh … And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new

e.e. cummings

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12 ways to write a poem…

poetry magnetic pieces

Let’s say I’m sitting in that room with you now. Take out a pad and pen, your favorite pen—the one that just slides across the paper. Be sure you have an hour or so, so you can take your time with each prompt.

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More Life Lessons…

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I love the following life lessons & wanted to share these with you; they come from a book I’ve been reading entitled Lean Forward into Your Life: Begin Each Day As If It Were on Purpose by Mary Ann Radmacher…

How is it that one is able to articulate the landscape of the spirit? The geography of the heart is understood and seen in ways which are, essentially, ineffable. Such understanding is a journey, a discovery, a joy: peculiar and particular. In our spirits’ holy night sky we come to know the singular beauty and magic that is our own music.

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