mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: ewart
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2011/09/ewart.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Monday, September 19, 2011. On the counter in my kitchen. Sits a salt cellar. With a large open mouth. Yawning out its side. To keep the salt from caking. It was thrown by a potter. Now gone from this world. Who’d retired to the french countryside. Who kept the house. And cooked their meals. Their house was a simple place. But with special touches of artistry. The provincial feel of the carpentry. Sat an old shack.
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: lula
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2012/02/lula.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Friday, February 10, 2012. At the hands of those. Whose job it is. Our world has only. I almost let you go myself. After i “rescued” you. You were so hard. In my peaceful home. I almost gave you back to them. I’m pleased to know. I didn’t have the heart. One day you will die. And i will cry. If i die first? February 21, 2012 at 10:33 PM. February 22, 2012 at 12:32 PM. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: April 2011
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Wednesday, April 13, 2011. The last time i’d seen him. He was whipping away. At the new summer grass. Where it always came. On the north side of our property. Mrs gould’s cows. Standing at the fence. Of new mown hay. He was talking to them. Like he was standing on the stump. For the upcoming election. At the end of spring. Me mam would employ him. I never knew if it was his first name or his last. It was always just.
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: July 2011
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Sunday, July 3, 2011. What a fortunate man. To have three muses. Of the highest order. When i am lost. Pour your heart into your work. Day in and day out. Provides water for my thirst. To write the worst junk in the world. And do not worry. For what is important. Write what you are. And apologize to no one. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Night in the urban forest. Welcom to the Typosphere.
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: January 2011
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Sunday, January 16, 2011. One needs to come. On a mild and clear morning. At the trolley platform. Take in as much as you can. And the light sensual breeze. Feel it lightly tickle your arms. And hear the sounds. The sploosh of the bus driver. Setting her air brakes. The deep powerful rumble. Of the passenger jet. Hear the joy in the voice. Of the old man. As he greets his friend. And shakes his hand. Rolls a cuff up.
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: September 2011
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Monday, September 19, 2011. On the counter in my kitchen. Sits a salt cellar. With a large open mouth. Yawning out its side. To keep the salt from caking. It was thrown by a potter. Now gone from this world. Who’d retired to the french countryside. Who kept the house. And cooked their meals. Their house was a simple place. But with special touches of artistry. The provincial feel of the carpentry. Sat an old shack.
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: croghan
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2011/04/croghan.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Wednesday, April 13, 2011. The last time i’d seen him. He was whipping away. At the new summer grass. Where it always came. On the north side of our property. Mrs gould’s cows. Standing at the fence. Of new mown hay. He was talking to them. Like he was standing on the stump. For the upcoming election. At the end of spring. Me mam would employ him. I never knew if it was his first name or his last. It was always just.
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-next-big-thing-week-28-good-friend.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Wednesday, December 12, 2012. THE NEXT BIG THING (WEEK 28). Anyway, this blog hop is an interview with me and it's incumbent upon me to tag someone else for next week. Following the blog hop rules, you’ll find my answers to a few questions about my current work in progress below. What is the working title of your book? A Life On Fire. Where did the idea come from for the book? What genre does your book fall under?
mikeflht.blogspot.com
Writings of Michael B: November 2010
http://mikeflht.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html
Writings of Michael B. A place to jot down my writings, musings, meanderings and thoughts. Friday, November 5, 2010. NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month. On November 1st I joined this year's NaNoWriMo. The challenge is to write a novel in 30 days of 50,000 words or more. I was astounded to discover that more than 172,000 people took up the challenge. That's one hundred, seventy-two thousand people! Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Night in the urban forest. Welcom to the Typosphere.
