A Charmed Day in Setúbal Some days are better than others. Some are perfect and some are just shit. Then there’s yesterday. The washing machine suddenly decided to no longer function, so all the laundry had to be handwashed. All…
Blog Archives
A Charmed Day in Setúbal
Tagged with: Ala dos Namorados, charm, dogs, friends, history, home, jazz, journal, music, neighbors, portugal, serendipity, setúbal, travel, writing
Posted in Leisure travel freedom, Living abroad, writing
Posted in Leisure travel freedom, Living abroad, writing
That darn Muse
That muse just keeps niggling me. I did this art (colored pencils and ink) during the winter as a soulself portrait. Then Miss Muse spoke some playful words. When I remain open, she speaks. Love and Peace.
Tagged with: art, colored pencil, creativity, ink, poetry, portrait
Posted in Living abroad, Uncategorized, writing
Posted in Living abroad, Uncategorized, writing
My Muse is Back!
Apparently I am at the mercy of a poetry muse. It seems she didn’t care for last winter either, and she vanished. Our friends and we were discussing the health of his mother recently. It made me think of many…
You can’t go home again
I live in Portugal. An ocean away from my native country, customs and language. After a year, I was weary of not knowing anything – or that’s how I felt. I had acute sensations of separation, isolation and loneliness. I…
I LIKE BIKE
Tagged with: bicycles, bikes, Colorado, electric bikes, folding bikes, journal, learning, leisure, portugal, setúbal, tourists, travel
Posted in Leisure travel freedom, Living abroad, road trip
Posted in Leisure travel freedom, Living abroad, road trip
View from another’s shoes
Blowhard I was young Lively curious Loving the outdoors Because it nurtured me I was young Fragile brittle Hating classes and books Because they humiliated me As more was expected My Self became squashed Tumbling ever deeper Into “idiot” label…
Tagged with: blowhard, bully, compassion, emotional pain, poetry, self respect, writing
Posted in Living abroad, writing
Posted in Living abroad, writing
Skin Game
SKIN GAME The skin separates from the onion After losing moisture And drying out It breaks free, becoming papery thins That scamper out the openings Of their wire basket home Floating weightlessly to the floor When the breeze breezes…
Barbarams
Wayne
