She

Whilst she is sleeping
A moonlit dreamscape her face.
Watching her in awe

Her beauty makes me breathless.

Her love is my oxygen.

Hat on a Hot Tin Roof [03]

August beginning, anyway.

Lousy poetry

Had I been mowing
this haiku would not exist
nor would the daisies.

"Yes"

Where the astrophysicist and Miss J.
are going to say "Yes".
Afterwards Miss J. will be Mrs. W..

Update: Meanwhile she is. :)

Guaranteed Monsanto free

Ingredients of
a nice little meal,
served with (selfmade) gnocchi.

Out of the Grey

. . .  the blue is growing . . .

[Almost] Monochrome Monday

Looking through the back door.

Death has no sting

It is not the death,
it's the process of dying
which is so damn sad.

Cloudless

Not bad for a Sunday morning at 9:37.

Friday is Skyday (79)

Glad my eyes are the eyes of a human.

Dance of the Gypsy Queen

Joy vs sorror

What will happen first?
Marriage on Mary's Castle
or will death prevail?

Lousy Little Lowlives

Found via Erkan (see at my Seldom borings) at Global Voices.



Recently I heard my friend Tetrapilotomos murmur, whilst proof-reading his 1669 pages short opus Pre-Assyrian Philately in a Nutshell: "Sometimes I think sharp knives could solve certain problems. The catchword is depenising."