God bides in such a world, my soul supposes!
World that’s a million times larger than ours…
Thank God, be happy, ponder the world
Where orbs are gardens with flowers…
If you want to trod that world
Live the life here fully.
Do repent your sins.
You’ll get back life.
With the Lord,
Most of us tend to talk about actions that are already over. In other words, we like to either reminisce about the good moments or discuss our past life events to add value to an ongoing conversation. Hence, it becomes essential for learners to understand the uses of each of the past tenses. Nonetheless, many students face issues dealing with the past continuous and the past perfect continuous. They find it hard to figure what exactly is the difference between these two tenses. Thus, in this post, we have listed all the differences we feel you ought to know.
This year we worked from home, to our workplaces said ‘buh-bye!’
And then at home we joyed with our beloved ménage, kinsfolk.
When March bade to each of us that sad and alarming ‘Hi’,
we did confine ourselves to our homes, thus becoming broke.
You are not a poet if you know just to rhyme;
You are not a poet if you don’t know to chime.
You are not a poet if you just use dead words;
You are not a poet if you can’t deal with girds.
The excitement of knowing that Christmas was near
A scent you could smell in the air
That innocence of childlike hoping
To reap all your dreams would dare
The anticipation of Christmas Eve
Of waking to the perfect gift
Of music with bells, and Christmas roast smells
So next time that you see a soul struggle through the day,
Think of how your Santa would bring love to fill their day,
And every gift that you receive, be grateful and feel blessed,
Knowing Santa’s with you and that his love never rests.
The morning writer, whose list of favourite authors changes all the time, has had her short stories featured in the award-winning anthologies Elmwood Stories to Die For and Mayhem in Memphis as well. ‘My stories also appear in Low Down Dirty Vote VII, Stories Through the Ages: Baby Boomers Plus 2019,’ she says. We also learn that the online literary journal Backchannels published one of her stories in the spring and another story won second place in the online Short Storyland 2019 competition.
Could you behold the setting ball of fire a while?
Could you discourse with each hill that’s adorned by snow?
The path we’re treading on will take us one more mile
So we may touch the clouds that move in that destined row.
Oh, when the sky does gain its charm and glow at night;
We’ll wander each lane that reflects the Moon’s light.
Perhaps you may even experience that which transcends our mortal pleasures for one fleeting moment by the one who keeps you warm at night. I have silently accepted I may never. Never have I tasted that of angels. The most I have ever experienced was to have held hands with one for one moment in time, suspended in memory, a memory that partially exists and partially does not. If I were to tell you how I think of you, what I think of you, you’d be frightened.
While becoming an author was not something the author had thought of in her childhood, she stresses that because she always possessed a vivid imagination, she could not but put pen to paper. ‘As many ideas constantly swim around my head, it is only natural for me to feel the only way to eliminate the thoughts is to write them down,’ she tells us.
Carrying gifts, comes the Santa;
He guffaws upon seeing us.
Riddling and giggling, he dances,
Illuded by the merry fuss.
Santa shakes the bag he carries,
Times each move ere catching a bus
Merry Christmas! He hoys cool gifts.
And says, ‘You shall grow happy thus.’
Shouts of elation now, no fuss.
While Mr Mana tries to keep a schedule, writing from 10 AM to 5 PM, with a short break for lunch and several pauses, he concedes that many unexpected events tend to shatter his schedule. ‘But that’s life I guess,’ he states. ‘Also, I sometimes just sit at the keyboard and write for the fun of it – without a deadline or a target market, or a contract. Especially when the going gets rough, and it happens, writing is a good way to clear the mind and stop worrying about those things you can’t control anyway,’ he adds.
Cyclical are storms of sadness
Starsheen parts the clouded skies
Eternal is the endless ocean
Fading are the tides
Winds the Lord sends in His anger at your folly and man’s; winds the Lord sends in return for your heathen sacrifice of His love for a man’s. And when those same men deem you shipshape no longer, too old and no longer fair in their eyes, they’ll replace you with another idol and cast you coldly to the sea once more.
I see Him in the seed, the bough, the tree
I see Him in your smile, your cry, your pout
I see Him in scenes that are, that can’t be
Oft marvel do I at His mighty clout
He knows it all well but without a scout
The worlds exist so He may joy and fun
He wills it so rivers flood, there is drought
None but Him can make us perceive we’re one
I oft wonder how the ball of light and fire not once reels;
Moving with a wondrous flair, the Sun hardly seems hoary.
Oh! Behold the skewing rays of our majestic Sun that wheels!
She wrote the Christian superhero series entitled ‘Science, Meet God’ while being crippled for four years after having undergone knee surgery at the age of twenty four. ‘I was on the verge of paralysis before a doctor finally figured that slipping disks had severed my spinal cord in half. I had spinal surgery in 2014. The healing process was slow and painful, and I would like to thank Cliff for being the best nurse a girl could ever hope for,’ she shares with us.
Every Sunday he herds cattle,
battling many hardships, pains;
Like a cloud that seems to prattle,
rattles all the weeds for gains.
Dancing and rejoicing, he heads
to the lands where grounds are beds.
Isled, forlorn are those plain lands;
People there don rustic bands.