tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14558316803396451712024-02-08T10:57:46.979-08:00Random ThoughtsQueen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-5442833724846739452015-01-25T09:34:00.000-08:002015-01-25T09:34:14.054-08:00— — —It may be politically incorrect in some ways, but ever since I found out that Julius Caersar suffered from the symptoms of epilepsy, I refer to him as Julius Seizure.Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-13859206881955000182014-11-20T13:18:00.003-08:002014-11-20T13:18:43.105-08:00— — —<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 23px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">It is the job of a writer to make the ordinary extraordinary and the extraordinary ordinary.</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-50246202187207713262014-10-28T19:16:00.001-07:002014-10-28T19:16:21.048-07:00— — —<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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.</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-49663745666084089012014-10-23T20:15:00.001-07:002014-10-23T20:15:49.785-07:00— — —The more time I spend with the Green Fairy, the more absinth-minded I get. ;-)Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-63280266311359977832014-10-10T12:15:00.002-07:002014-10-10T12:15:19.054-07:00— — —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.Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-42104399096008517922014-08-26T07:03:00.002-07:002014-08-26T07:03:23.803-07:00— — —I'm in the unfortunate habit of burning all bridges BEFORE me.Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-28996541349183374022014-07-18T06:58:00.001-07:002014-07-18T06:58:23.053-07:00— — —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?Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-32963935034925157742014-04-12T07:16:00.000-07:002014-04-12T07:16:13.432-07:00— — —"Spring," Tobiel said, with that familiar smirk on his face, "Spring is earth bringing you flowers to apologize for Winter. "Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-75125052005649642902014-04-11T21:09:00.002-07:002014-04-11T21:09:29.278-07:00— — —Archimedes was a very calculating person. Just a thought. ;-)Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-31165457657612068602014-04-09T15:34:00.001-07:002014-04-09T15:34:56.436-07:00— — —"As far as the Creator's grand design is concerned, everything in this world is Plan B." — Tobiel, the carpenterQueen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-22930716861717037092014-04-01T09:03:00.003-07:002014-04-01T09:03:45.214-07:00— — —<span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.8); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 17px;">"Two wrongs don't make a right," Tobiel said, grinning and making three quarter-turns, "but three lefts do, see?"— Queen Makeda's Sister</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-50776938837017448912014-03-23T10:22:00.001-07:002014-03-23T10:22:13.717-07:00— — —"You, my beloved, are a poem made of flesh and blood. My poetry is but an echo of what it says to me."Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-33356942465678711602014-03-09T13:58:00.001-07:002014-03-09T14:01:31.647-07:00— — —Like a blind man's hands on the face of a stranger, so my soul yearns to fathom the boundless beauty of your being.Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-42751169702049602552014-01-22T09:44:00.000-08:002014-01-22T09:44:07.679-08:00— — —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:<br />
<br />
She'll be the star by which I navigate,<br />
My sure escape from a most dire fate,<br />
The final word that wins the tough debate,<br />
My soul's redeemer and its precious mate.<br />
I bared my heart to her, so now I wait,<br />
And her response will only be too late<br />
When, carved in stone, my name with final date<br />
Declares that I have moved past love and hate.<br />
<br />
Copyright © 2014 Ruppert LindemannQueen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-50235980709115895772013-12-27T12:00:00.002-08:002013-12-27T12:00:32.090-08:00— — —“My soul, sweet love, sits blissfully smiling in the space between what we did and what we shall yet do together.” — Tehtena, Princess of Sheba<br />
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Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-55202186818072295262013-12-18T17:53:00.004-08:002013-12-18T17:53:36.239-08:00— — —Now that you are gone, the words of my poetry all trace a fading dream like the outline of a body at a crime scene.Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-71238776584124745372013-12-11T06:38:00.000-08:002013-12-11T14:14:00.151-08:00— — —"I would be a much better procrastinator if I got around to working at it." — Tobiel, the carpenterQueen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-41961369659081165762013-11-26T09:29:00.002-08:002013-11-26T09:29:26.851-08:00— — —<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px;">Queen Makeda's Sister is just a fictional character and I owe her nothing. Yet if I do not let her speak, much of me will never have said a word.</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-77367330774095245702013-11-22T05:28:00.004-08:002013-11-22T05:28:53.959-08:00Tobiel speaks again<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">"When you come to a fork in the road, you have THREE choices: Go left, go right, OR go back to where you came from. That last one, though, won't get you anywhere fast." — Tobiel, the carpenter</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-90790255366948644922013-11-19T19:41:00.001-08:002013-11-19T19:41:46.369-08:00A line from the novel"However nice your day may get,<br />
before too long the sun will set."<br />
<br />
—Tobiel, the carpenterQueen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-23316022477655405682013-11-07T09:47:00.002-08:002013-11-07T09:47:25.947-08:00— — —We've lived now well into the dusk of life, but just as the beauty of the sun most stirs the heart at eventide, so too, beloved, does yours.Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-6328379724297091102013-10-30T06:55:00.003-07:002013-10-30T06:55:45.577-07:00— — —<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px;">Due to chronic arthritis, I now restrict myself to only bending over FORWARD to please my clients. ;-)</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-50482292074898299112013-10-28T06:55:00.000-07:002013-10-28T06:55:02.666-07:00— — —<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.09375); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">Maybe my company seems less than sweet to you because your presence does not stir my heart. The sugar sits still undissolved at the bottom.</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-68058175041351618332013-10-24T16:33:00.001-07:002013-10-24T16:33:27.881-07:00A few lines from BOOK THREE"A blind rooster gets more sleep," Tobiel said after Tehtena had finished sharing Solomon's comments. Not even the most romantic story could not keep him from making his funny remarks. "And so does his whole neighborhood," Deborah added, chuckling and squeezing her husband's hand.Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1455831680339645171.post-23913526556542238832013-10-24T09:59:00.001-07:002013-10-24T09:59:35.959-07:00A few lines from the trilogy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 17px;">I should have felt it sooner, sensed it long before you confessed your love to me. But then, does a blind rooster crow at the first faint sign of dawn? Will it not have to feel the warming rays of a fully risen sun to know that the morning has come? Thus my heart did not break into song until your precious words removed all doubt that my night, at last, had ended.</span>Queen Makeda's Sisterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389235151208506148noreply@blogger.com0