Thursday, November 20, 2014

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It is the job of a writer to make the ordinary extraordinary and the extraordinary ordinary.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

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The stories we want to write come from the living we want to do. The way we write them comes from the living we have actually done.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

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The more time I spend with the Green Fairy, the more absinth-minded I get. ;-)

Friday, October 10, 2014

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I don't have a bucket list. I just want a decent bucket—light and pliable. Soft even. Easy on the toes when I kick it. That's all I'm asking.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Friday, July 18, 2014

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I saw a man, this morning, tired and way past his prime. "Happy Birthday," I mumbled. He just looked away. Why do I still have mirrors in the house, anyway?

Saturday, April 12, 2014

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"Spring," Tobiel said, with that familiar smirk on his face, "Spring is earth bringing you flowers to apologize for Winter. "

Friday, April 11, 2014

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

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"As far as the Creator's grand design is concerned, everything in this world is Plan B." — Tobiel, the carpenter

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

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"Two wrongs don't make a right," Tobiel said, grinning and making three quarter-turns, "but three lefts do, see?"— Queen Makeda's Sister

Sunday, March 23, 2014

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"You, my beloved, are a poem made of flesh and blood. My poetry is but an echo of what it says to me."

Sunday, March 9, 2014

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Like a blind man's hands on the face of a stranger, so my soul yearns to fathom the boundless beauty of your being.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

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While surfing the internet on my commute to work, I read that many portions of THE ARABIAN NIGHTS were written in mono-rhyme, which is frequently used in classical Arabic poetry. That inspired me. So I decided right then and there to put a few lines together, all of them written not only in mono-rhyme, but also in strict iambic pentameter without any rhythmic variations. So here they are, the thoughts of a man hopelessly in love but not at all certain yet whether his feelings will be returned:

She'll be the star by which I navigate,
My sure escape from a most dire fate,
The final word that wins the tough debate,
My soul's redeemer and its precious mate.
I bared my heart to her, so now I wait,
And her response will only be too late
When, carved in stone, my name with final date
Declares that I have moved past love and hate.

Copyright © 2014 Ruppert Lindemann