Every red state
Has pockets
Of blue
And Every blue state
Bleeds
A little bit
Of red
The secret
Of a skilled artist
is to blend colors
Paint harmony
In this canvas
We call
Home
Every red state
Has pockets
Of blue
And Every blue state
Bleeds
A little bit
Of red
The secret
Of a skilled artist
is to blend colors
Paint harmony
In this canvas
We call
Home
As Independence Day approaches, I’ve been thinking about the responsibilities that come with freedom.
There is no single path to success. There isn’t a single measurement for success. One person chases wealth while another seeks peace. One measures success by promotions, another by relationships, another by the freedom to spend an afternoon doing exactly what they want.
In a realm where the Eye gazes far, the Ear listens softly, and the Hand crafts tirelessly, discord arises among the body’s parts. It’s the Gut, with grumbly wisdom, that reminds them of their indispensable unity and the strength found in their diversity.
Peacocks: although pretty, they’re pretty loud. Porcupines: their spines make painful quills. Skunks: I’ll be blunt. They stink.Snakes: I really don’t like snakes. Elephants: nobody has that much space. Hippopotamuses: the worst Christmas present ever. Structure shapes how a poem is read and felt. In Six Squared Poems—six lines with six words each—the constraint creates rhythm…
Beloved child,littlegentle one. Your wisdom,pepperedin silver gray, shouts kindnessin soft whispers,words learnedin humblenoble youth.
Formulas of similar standards guide their aim, Private labels borrow from big brands‘ brews. Stocked side by side, so subtly the same Retailers don their distinct disguise, Stocked side by side, so sublty the same. Even as whispers of quality occasionally arise. Private labels match or surpass inferiority’s claim, Generic gems rival branded royalty’s crowns….