Stepping out of his shining space-craft the colonist surveys his new planet.
Barren rock under a purple sky.
Not a sign of life.
Crashing to his knees in despair he shakes his fists at the clouds.
‘Damn it, damn it all to hell.’
‘They did it.’
He pounds the ground with his fists while his tears drop on the dusty soil, then evaporate.
‘They gave me wrong directions.’
I should have taken a left at Orion’s Belt!’
– Job
Understanding ourselves and the world we live in.
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
Experiments in the Art of Mastering None
Rhymes and Reasons
Vibe alone for a while
writes one short story every week
Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Free tutorial for beginners | For inquiries, go to contact section
Dabbles in writing, loves music and nature. Sierra Leonean
Philosophy Professor & Philosophical Counselor - Dr. Elly Pirocacos
Stories of Adventure & Friendship
