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Smell The Coffee

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Author

Vivian Zems

Mum, author and dentist is how I describe myself. I love creating pictures from words. Sometimes a painter, other times a weaver- words are my tool; trying to create something beautiful. When I was nine, my dad introduced me to audio books. I was hooked. With his guidance, I fell into a world where words became life simply by weaving them together. So here I am, living out my passion- reading and writing! Enjoy the ride with me 😁😁

Gently does it

There was a time when, if I dropped something, I'd pick it up without a second thought. Nowadays, when that happens, I yell for the kids (all the way upstairs or across town) to come pick it up! My yester... Continue Reading →

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At Normal Temperature and Pressure

Kerry, on Real Toads challenges us to write to a landscape or image that resonates. I immediately thought of zen stones and water..then I got the perfect image. This is how I would describe myself to anyone. Still as paused... Continue Reading →

The Gardener

An excerpt for Verses of April. I wrote this to reflect the increasing rarity of care and compassion Day 4 whether to plant or to hoe the gardener takes care of his plot He tends to young plants lines up... Continue Reading →

Between Hither and Thither

A life will be spent getting from there to here discerning the ‘now’ from the ‘then’ -testing bridges that bear the weight of all our mistakes and flounderings And yet- as life oscillates between foolishness and wisdom from our Springs... Continue Reading →

A Sense of Flight (or Fight)

what is the sound of a feeling if it's from harm or healing? what is the taste of a punch if it's not a beverage with lunch? what is the look of an insult if it's from one you no... Continue Reading →

Flash Fiction: Day 299

For Dverse, a 144 word flash fiction including the line ‘When far away, an interrupted cry’.   Diary entry 299. That's the number of days it's been since London fell. The generator powering this observatory is rapidly failing and and I... Continue Reading →

Respite

  On those days when tearing at the sky seems better than singing to the heavens When fire-breathing dragons  morph from belly butterflies And angry scars scream for attention ...that's when I remember that a warrior is permitted to have... Continue Reading →

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

William Ernest Henley (poet, editor, and critic)  was born in Gloucester, England.  His father was a struggling bookseller who died when Henley was a teenager. At age 12 Henley was diagnosed with tubercular arthritis that necessitated the amputation of one... Continue Reading →

Wondrous Tears

I revel in the wonder of tears that fall - right as rain unto fresh cut meadows not caring if they were born  of  deep joy or many sorrows I’m awed at the tranquil vibe of the exhausted sigh  carried... Continue Reading →

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