A found poem for you! Words provided by Real Simple magazine and rearranged by yours truly.
Asides
4 Variations Of Where To Look While Your Dog Poops That Make You Feel Less Awkward
[This post was originally published by Thought Catalog at www.thoughtcatalog.com on May 13, 2015. To see the post in all of its Thought Catalog-y Glory, you can click here. Or just read on…]
Your dog walks faster and starts to circle. You know what’s next. He looks straight ahead, concentrates on his task. Sensing your own unfixed, awkward eyes, you wonder, where am I supposed to look while this is happening? You must decide, so choose wisely.
5 Places Where You Should Never Be On Your Phone
[This post was originally published by Thought Catalog at www.thoughtcatalog.com on March 23, 2015. To see the post in all of its Thought Catalog-y Glory, you can click here. Or just read on…]
I am consistently appalled when seeing someone on their phone instead of interacting with the person next to them or enjoying the scenery. Apparently, you are allowed to stare at your phone while you are out to dinner. This is socially acceptable now. Fine.
There are some spaces that should remain sacred. These should be the cell-phone-free corners of the world, places where it is always inappropriate, unnecessary, pointless to be looking at, talking on, texting with or even holding a phone.
Stirring the Poetry Pot
Miss Early Bird is about to get serious about poetry, people. A few poetry pieces are in the works, to be unveiled next month. You can sign up to receive new posts via email so that you do not miss any Poet Moments.
As part of Writing 201’s Poetry Potluck, here are a few of my favorite verses from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself.
The View from Here
“That’s hibiscus! And that’s hibiscus! That’s hibiscus too,” I tell my husband. Pouring onto the skinny, two-lane highway are bushes bursting with these pink, yellow, red and white flowers. Amidst car exhaust and reckless pedestrians, hibiscus stays wide open and sturdy, begging the sun and the bees with their loveliness. The bright orange stigma among the petals seem phallic to me. I assure myself that they seem this way to the other honeymooners as well.
Miss Early Bird 