(Is it actually an abbreviation for something?) That it is.


OP = Original Post or the Original Person who started the thread/topic.

Bridget must be very proud of you, proud to have you for a grandson. So sad for both of you that she never knew or held you while she was still alive. I was fifteen when my Irish grandfather died, he was my prince charming, the man I compared all other men to.

Your poetry and graphic designs, have me coming back for more. Some folks open their morning newspaper, I open the Creative Writing forum looking for a new poem that you may write and share, to read and ponder while I drink my morning cup of java, then I check the weather report and news reports. I keep telling myself, I have to get a life, there has to be more to life but I'm hooked (hook, line and sinker)! I like the way you think and write.

I write every day but it just does not come flowing out of me, I struggle. I guess I just haven't found that passion within me, that one needs to write poetry. Every morning, I put a smile on my face and look for beauty, it is one of the choices we can all make. Most of the stuff people write and post I don't relate to. But I like the way you write and relate to most of your poetry.

And that you are, a poet indeed, whether right or wrong!

Your love for Ireland and the serenity that you have found there can be seen in this poem. The graphics is well done. May you find a rainbow in all that delights your heart as you live out these golden years.

Wow, you must know my neighbor, he just sent the girl friend to pick up his disability check and her welfare check so he has money for beer. Kids don't have food or clothing but he has his beer.

Good read

Are you really that na�ve to believe that just because someone has a picture posted it is a picture of themselves? I could take a photograph of my grandmother when she was a young woman, copy it and use it for my main photo (she was a good looking woman) and you wouldn't have a clue. I could even date it. Unless you meet in person, it's all an illusion.

Abuse... abusers (men/women) groom their victims, the victims often believe it is their fault, "if only they were better!" Don't believe it, abuse, verbal, emotional, physical, or sexual is never okay! Report, and get help, find a support group. No contact, is the only way; the abuser knows the buttons to push, and they have no problem with lying. No matter what they say, most do not change. All anyone can do is remind you to take care of yourself, it is not your problem to try and fix them.

Angry dogs to bite reminded me of this fable

The Man Bitten by a Dog
A man who had been bitten by a dog went about in quest of someone who might heal him. A friend, meeting him and learning what he wanted, said, "If you would be cured, take a piece of bread, and dip it in the blood from your wound, and go and give it to the dog that bit you." The man who had been bitten laughed at this advice and said, "Why, If I should do so, it would be as if I should beg every dog in the town to bite me." Benefits bestowed upon the evil-disposed increase their means of injuring you. (AesopFable)

You asked, I tell you, Everyone is entitled to their opinions even if it was not the answer you were looking for.

Tommy, I probably over think the stuff you write, but I certainly find it interesting. This is one of them. I imagine you will find that amusing since I sometimes think it is your intentions.

Tommy, Thank you, coming from the wordsmith himself, that means a lot.

Wisteria
Philip Levine (1928-2015) An American poet

The first purple wisteria
I recall from boyhood hung
on a wire outside the windows
of the breakfast room next door
at the home of Steve Pisaris.
I loved his tall, skinny daughter,
or so I thought, and I would wait
beside the back door, prostrate,
begging to be taken in. Perhaps
it was only the flowers of spring
with their sickening perfumes
that had infected me. When Steve
and Sophie and the three children
packed up and made the move west,
I went on spring after spring,
leaden with desire, half-asleep,
praying to die. Now I know
those prayers were answered.
That boy died, the brick houses
deepened and darkened with rain,
age, use, and finally closed
their eyes and dreamed the sleep
of California. I learned this
only today. Wakened early
in an empty house not lately
battered by storms, I looked
for nothing. On the surface
of the rain barrel, the paled,
shredded blossoms floated.

This topic has been discussed before in the forums, and there is no other way to put it, off site opens you up to what I call "sexual harassment" and I have my fair share of emails and pictures to prove it, then there is the hackers and scammers. Until I meet someone in person, I don't believe what I see (pictures) or what I hear (profile), I view everyone as a liar, a catfish, or a scammer hiding behind their computer screens, until proven otherwise.

Until I meet someone in person I generally do not go off site. That way if I'm not interested they don't have my phone number or email. Just may prevent stalking in the event they get pissed off because I didn't see them as God's gift to the world.

Always, always left with the memories...
Memories of what once was, but is no more!

Earth and Sun, the truth sought was nothing more than a fable, an angry dog left to bite. but true.

...fantasy will never heal, it is only a dream, find the real deal.

conflict of the mind!