drikus7write.bsky.social
Word-organizing writer, hobbyist photographer, conversationalist, just treading carefully in this world, where we need to live more of GOD instead of for ourselves.
1,496 posts
1,178 followers
391 following
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Simile and here I'm reading smile...
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Your Mind - 8/6/2025
Your mind is like a cupboard,
with many drawers and doors,
you open up one to discover another one is full,
sometimes you also push when the label says pull.
Trees in a hue of sunset colors,
trees that is not black but green,
water through the body course,
a simple nature force.
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Great pictures make for great stories.
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Like this? 👇
Keep on being creative... 📸
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Let the music play that soothes the heart.
Moods come and go, but music has a way of rectifying the need for the moment.
Use a gramophone with those tulip-like golden "speakers," sometimes music needs to be played on something other than a computer with speakers.
Let your music speak to your mood.
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She sat staring at the white animal in front of her. Thinking to herself, here I was just trying to row my boat on this enchanted river. Standing dead-still, the tiger sized her up. Hours passed while the two beings sat staring at each other. One swift movement sends the tiger climbing into her boat
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Look there's someone landing a biplane on the river, oh, it's just a little bridge. A bridge to where? Narnia? No wait, wrong story...
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Those who are going to demonstrate, must make a chain-link with their arms, and stand in front of these so-called battle-ready stupid things. People must stop being afraid about this oligarch Krasnov who got his seat by being bought by his boyfriend Swazticar.
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Canada?
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What a beautiful dreamscape. Wish I could sit here with my soulmate.
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Flowers In A Vase - 7/6/2025
Colors bloom and flower,
inside a cup used for a shower,
vibrant in their infinity,
can you make it a mimicry?
Faux for some table tale,
sort of modern ale,
a ship without an anchor,
green leaves fight for rancor?
Search high to low,
make patterns,
create a bow,
slow?
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#BlueSkyArtShow
Vibrance - 7/6/2025
Where sunrises and sunsets meet,
you can honestly wash your feet,
some tides form a rushing beat.
Blue flows out of green,
an age-old machine,
for any king or just a queen.
Vibrance form vibrations,
waves broken an implication,
with sounds calling reverberation.
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#Spectacle
#PoemsAbout
Spectacle - 7/6/2025
Out of a washed-up bag,
not a hand jumping
just you mind an old hag,
seeing the world as a grumping.
Listen to capitalism,
follow what shadows speak
trees see the wonder of a prism,
right into a spilling creek.
Run over hills,
wondering frills
a spectacle.
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This is how you knead the dough...
🤔🤔🙃
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Looks like a snail with big eyes...
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Looks more like a scene from I Know What You Did Last Summer the television series. But go and write that novel.
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Every day and people eat it like sweet cakes...
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Along The Shore - 7/6/2025
Secrets wait,
silently,
many waters pass,
over drops of fragile glass.
Embrace that moment,
friendly,
looking into your face,
on that open tablespace.
Hearts ajar,
receiving,
whispers from conversations,
left in the sky stations.
Facing salty wind,
walk,
hand in hand alone
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Am I seeing double or am I seeing double?
No wait, there is a bubble in that bottle, so it cannot be double, thanks for not getting into trouble... 🤔😂
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#PoemsAbout #Spectacle
Spectacle - 7/6/2025
Staring at the wonder of nature,
handiwork of the Creator,
from the bayou no alligator,
cloudy exposure.
Reach out and touch,
the face of emptiness,
notice turtles and their prettiness,
a sure sign of some sort of crutch,
for the realness
is a spectacle.
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Is this the right hat or the right hat?
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😂😂😂
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You're holding an eclair...
And it must be National Snoopy Day somewhere....
Oh, I see it's Ice Cream Day never mind if it's winter or not...
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Story Of The Fire People - 5/6/2025
Around a circle tight,
flames of red, orange, yellow catch the light,
where stories are told well into the night.
Look into those lighted faces,
no shoes with lost laces,
memories for so many places.
Search through a camera roll,
soundless clocks toll,
from fires.
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Inner Voice - 5/6/2025
From white shells of the inner deep,
hear the call of waters not asleep,
buying no time to weep.
Orange, yellow's cousin showing later,
oceans wash away moods of a hater,
no racing cars called Mater.
Swiftly the clouds move,
sand falls into a groove,
an inner voice smooth.
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Beautiful.
Each title can let the story take on a different meaning.
I think when I asked this, I just wanted a title for the fun of it.
Didn't even know Twitter had those. And I've made a lot more acquaintances with writers here than on Twitter, and I've been writing a whole lot of poetry too here.
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When the bug for painting hits again, this is going to be one of those paintings. Very beautiful photo...
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@mimitlrife.bsky.social please do not take this the wrong way, but for some strange reason, all I think of (as you didn't mention the flower's name), is that this flower reminds me of...
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Lost Again - 4/6/2025
Viridescent and cerulean,
in the atmosphere competing
with the mighty deep.
Angel wings form in the billows,
with colors ranging from purple
to yellow and some colors of an ant-heap.
A hue of silver stillness,
over the odorless stretch of liquid
found to be lost again all over.
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Let 'em clams sing...
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Not Alex or someone else, it's @theauthorguy.bsky.social making a point. It looks more like a peanut running, when the search enquiry was waffles running.
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In a pan add some nice monkey gland sauce with grilled pistachios and some salt and pepper and some milk. Boil this for about half an hour, making sure everything is toasty and just almost crispy. Cut off the mushrooms, cut them in pieces. In another pan prepare steak, throw the mushrooms away...
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If this is the same woman playing in the title role, you should watch Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri and Nomadland, really great performance by Frances McDormand, I love her to bits. And these movies oh my goodness, why can't movies like these make the Oscar list every year?
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Old things, new things, it just depends on what you can do with them...
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New Places - 2/6/2025
A horizon close at foot,
displacing sand with your boot,
run amok among the waves,
look what the sand staves.
Freaks of nature,
not as natural as stature,
pylons of a bygone era,
far away from a real Sierra.
Blinking waves,
currents are not slaves,
leave old faces,
new places.
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Let me take all my saved money and let's go. Is it open? Is it open? Oh, it's just past 4 in the morning...
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