Bret the Hitman Hart

I ❤️ Bret Hart!

I’m the short one with the bangs. We worked together on a movie directed by Eric Stoltz .

Never knew what to make of this wall art.

Now, I’m thinking, maybe he got into the ring w/Bret?

Okay, so I’m trying to use up my superfluous pics of street art.

Wandering into the alleys of my life at the same time.

Pics taken by Resa – May 6, 2020

The Artist:

Flowers…

Recently, Sue Vincent encountered a new and difficult challenge: lung cancer. I post this incredibly beautiful poem, with its rich and meaningful presentation, in support of her. Thank you for being a sharing and prolific blogger, Sue. Thank you for being you! Sincerely – Resa ❤ (Please visit Sue to comment!)

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

There were always flowers.

Orchids pinned upon a mother’s breast,

All lace and diamonds.

Long black gloves

And painted lips,

As she left, laughing.

A child who watched

As the door closed.

There were flowers…

Yellow tulips,

Cellophane and ribbon

A girl who blushed

As the curtain fell

Upon the stage;

She cradled them,

A first bouquet.

There were flowers,

Roses and lilies

White, in hands and hair,

Their fragrance mingled

With frankincense,

A ghost of awe and wonder

Finding a home

In memory.

There were flowers…

Rainbow hued,

Everywhere.

Greeting a life newborn,

With love and welcome,

Lighting stark severity

As a babe cried.

There were flowers…

Daisy chains

Around his brow,

Crowning him with sunlight,

In laughter,

In simplicity,

In love.

There were flowers,

Three roses,

Red as life,

Placed in a cold hand,

One for each heart

Saying farewell.

Too long,

Too soon.

There are flowers,

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Raven is the head of the Library Committee…

I can hardly wait for Valentine’s at the Coop! Beth sure picked some fab books to read to the Chicklets and all the wonderful animals at the Coop!

Rethinking Life

Everyone always looks forward to Beth’s story time.  A vote was taken and it was decided that she would read later today, rather than wait until tomorrow.  A line is already forming outside the library and those who live at The Coop, and their guests, are extremely excited to hear the new stories.

Raven made the sign and she’s ushering everyone inside.  She’s a very good librarian and committee leader.  She loves books and makes sure they are well cared for.  Story time is one of her favorite things.

It’s going to be a wonderful Valentine’s Day weekend.

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George Eliot

A short and very informative post by dear Holly! Go girls!

House of Heart

George Eliot

Mary Ann Evans wanted to escape the stereotype of women’s writing being limited to lighthearted romances. She also wanted to have her fiction judged separately from her widely known work as a translator, editor and critic. Her use of a pen name may also have been a desire to shield her private life from public scrutiny, avoiding the scandal that might have arisen from of her relationship with the marriedGeorge Henry Lewes.

Lewes met writer Mary Ann Evans in 1851 and by 1854 they had decided to live together. Lewes and his wife Agnes Jervis had agreed to have anopen marriage. Jervis had three children with Lewes and four with an unnamed lover . Lewes, having assumed the role of father to all the children, was unable to divorce Jervis but he and Eliot remained together until death.

Eliot was not what society considered beautiful however Henry James…

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The Riches

Let’s remember, and be thankful for our riches! Thank you, dear Holly!

House of Heart

From the window of my house

as quiet as as a river I can watch

the moon shiver in the breeze

through the fronds of palm trees.

Hibiscus wave like children

their mouths move silently,

hands of garland reach out to

one another.

I am grateful for the sweet

drape of your eyes that like

fluttering wings of birds lift

the shawl of darkness where in

the light prismatic butterflies

breach their chrysalis and

vanish in the arching sky.

These are the riches

the golden sunlight passing through us.

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Indulging Conjecture

I can’t think of any poetry more perfectly drenched in metaphor & as sensually delightful than Holly’s.
I can’t think of something more perfect to follow my previous post, Frank’s “Beach Walk Reflections”. I’m closing comments, so if you want to say something about the poem, do it on Holly’s blog!
Here’s reflecting on you, kid!

House of Heart

Pink sand pulls away

from the glistening shore

melting fondant in the

sticky heat

Minute ecosystems inhabit

tiny grottoes in tide pools

of wet sand

Some days I stroll the coast alone

escaping into secret realms of lovers

where there is no logic but

an aching crush I hold to my breast

a passage betweena heart and the

mountains where I left you

Allow me to come undone beneath

tender hands on eggshell

the gentle quake of a sigh upon your

unshaven cheek

Let me   drown in the green river of

your eyes where there

is no threat of war hard silence

or the burden of forgiveness

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