..
Naked, tired, preparing for the Winter onslaught
once again. Not really knowing if you have the strength
to endure until the Vernal Renewal. Survival isn't easy.
.
.
Monkey Man has a weekly writing exercise called
Sunday 160. Write a poem or story in exactly 160
characters, then post it on your blog. Then go tell him.
You may find him .......Here!
See you Monday.....G
Sometimes lifes like that but it is well worth the struggle, I reckon! Great post!
ReplyDeleteespecially after being stripped bare...put some clothes on g! smiles.
ReplyDeletemy 160 will go up in the morning...
Galen, this is truly poetry. You are not writing a "little nonsense" so stop the self deprecation and continue to show more skin....heehee.
ReplyDeleteyou wrote an amazing piece here.
fondly,
Fab Di
Come morning, you see a new light. Then all becomes easy...
ReplyDeleteechoeing parenthesis
indeed it's not but the trees certainly are the great survivors and witnesses to more seasons than we can imagine.
ReplyDeleteSleep on it :)
ReplyDeleteIt's not easy but it's what we all strive for so therefore worth the effort. ;)
ReplyDeleteAh but you turn and Voila - Spring!
ReplyDeletemine is here
Trees so inspire with their harsh reactions to winter's on set. Great 160, G. Thanks for playing along.
ReplyDeleteYes, I feel this one. You captured my mood perfectly. Beautiful 160, G.
ReplyDelete-C
Gman (Hug)
ReplyDeletewinter onslaught is everywhere... I hope things recover soon
and
If winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Very clever. Very enjoyable. Thanks for this.
ReplyDeleteAll the best, Boonie
Such is life. Nice ddepiction of the passing of the seasons. Hope we all survive.
ReplyDeleteNaked, tired .. wonderful descritpion, I loved this.
ReplyDeleteIt's that inner strength that gives them the ability to stand naked through the onslaught. I suspect that you have that in spades, Galen, but please, keep your clothes on. ;-)
ReplyDeletei feel so naked after reading this...wonder if i will survive the winter...smiles
ReplyDelete..my 160
Not only to survive the cold and starvation of winter, but to have enough left over to bud in the Spring! OTOH, you could be like the trees around here and put a little antifreeze in your veins and make your leaves into needles.
ReplyDeleteMine's about trees as well, only about their death in the name of progress. I like yours better because at least there's hope come spring.
ReplyDeleteit is the time before spring comes...
ReplyDeletebear it.
insightful 160.
Hope you well, G-man.
Not for any of us. I have a soft fuzzy blankie for you.
ReplyDeleteGo south young man....evocative poem.
ReplyDeleteHave a wonderful week ahead,
cheers,
joanny
not easy, but what choice do we have? 41 Days until Christmas!
ReplyDeleteLOVE your poetry, Galen. I can picture you as a little boy running across the field to that tree, already a poet, one with the wind and the world.
ReplyDeletexo
Oh yeah, I remember winters in Michigan.
ReplyDeletehttp://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2010/11/14/sunday-160-fear-mongering/
I feel his way about the approaching winter.
ReplyDeleteI like winter probably about as much as a tree does. Nice 160 :)
ReplyDelete