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Wednesday, Apr. 23, 2025

7:43pm EDT

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Writings in the Sand

by Ned

Rated: 13+ · Book · Entertainment · #2199980

Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life.

I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance?

I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them.

Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog.

Show Recent Comments

10 Most Recent Blog Comments:

Ned

a day ago
In response to "Indignity"

Beholden

YouTube makes stars of some of the most unlikely characters. Even a lobster can have a fanbase.

1 Like

Beholden

Apr 21, 2025 at 6:04am
In response to "Indignity"

A powerful comment on the plight of perhaps the most delicious of all seafoods. For those who care about lobsters, I recommend the website of Leon the Lobster:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0HiM4heFTOoxnxAnv_WJJArugTScPBUg

JACE

Apr 15, 2025 at 7:36am
In response to "Writing a Check"

Your title intrigued me, probably because I write so few actual checks these days. I do everything online ... as much as possible, that is. My creative period to write is first thing in the morning when I rise. Lately, that's been about 6am. Since I'm not retired and could sleep later, it's a mite annoying to continually waken early.

But that's when it is. And I can never seem to write anything from my phone. I need keys, often mis-struck since I'm no typist. I'm sorry you feel your writing is like "paying dues." I hope you find your way back to the joy of writing. You can do it.

Ned

Apr 15, 2025 at 6:16am
In response to "Writing a Check"

Beholden

It may be age, as well. But I think the ease of computing these days takes away from the struggle, the suffering of the poet, don't you think? After all, I blogged this from my phone.

1 Like

Beholden

Apr 15, 2025 at 5:50am
In response to "Writing a Check"

Sounds so familiar. Although I blame it on old age, rather than the PC.

Ned

Apr 13, 2025 at 7:47am
In response to "April is the Cruellest Month"

ßlυҽყҽʐ 🤍

Cubby

Beholden

Thank you!

THANKFUL SONALI 18 WDC Years!

I don't think all dreams are meaningful, but some may be. At least, it may be meaningful to know whats on your subconsious mind.

2 Like

ßlυҽყҽʐ 🤍

Apr 12, 2025 at 9:19am
In response to "April is the Cruellest Month"

I love your poem! Of course, I find so much of your writing to be wonderful.

THANKFUL SONALI 18 WDC Years!

Apr 12, 2025 at 9:11am
In response to "April is the Cruellest Month"

There are those who 'analyze' dreams and say that dreaming about 'this' means 'something', and maybe that's true to a certain extent, maybe not. I often dream about going back to school and not studying for an exam or not giving in homework. Now I was a good student to the point of being sickeningly goody-goody, so that hasn't actually happened. A friend said it could mean that I'm unsure of the new things I'm learning now in life and that I want someone to teach me.

This is a thought provoking blog entry!

Cubby

Apr 12, 2025 at 7:41am
In response to "April is the Cruellest Month"

Beautiful piece! I love what you say in your very last sentence. ...emotional defense, a way to preserve sanity rather than give in to unspeakable grief.

Beholden

Apr 12, 2025 at 7:29am
In response to "April is the Cruellest Month"

Great poem, wonderful blog post.

April 23, 2025 at 8:16am

#1087845

Happy Birthday, Will!

Today is April 23, Shakespeare's 461st birthday.

For sure and forsooth, this fellow is long in the tooth.

In his honor and as a tribute to his longevity in the world of literature, here is one of his sonnets about advancing age:

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Personally, I love theb"bare, ruined choirs" and am always sad to see the buds on the trees in the spring season.

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