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#262
C C Offline Apr 30, 2026 05:31 AM
We Are the Caretakers of Empty Houses
by Iris Tree

We are the caretakers of empty houses,
The moon leans her slender body against the door,
But the lock is jarred with rust.
The sun looks in through the window,
But its closed shutters are as blinded eyes.
Our souls are full of dead and beautiful things
Like bowls of potpourri,
A dust of petals
Rustling through the tired fingers of a ghost.
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#263
Magical Realist Online May 1, 2026 05:42 PM
"You don’t have to be spectacular.
Be a shack.
Fall apart.
Learn the immense grace
inside of humility.
Be honest.
Let parts of yourself go
in the name of truthfulness
and love.
This life is a shell.
We don’t need to decorate it
with other people’s impressions.
Grow inside it
through the ongoing and simple
commitment to kindness."
❤️
Author unknown
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#270
C C Offline May 31, 2026 04:21 AM
The Floweret
by Alexander Pushkin (translated by Ivan Panin)

A floweret, withered, odorless
In a book forgot I find;
And already strange reflection
Cometh into my mind.

Bloomed, where? when? In what spring?
And how long ago? And plucked by whom?
Was it by a strange hand? Was it by a dear hand?
And wherefore left thus here?

Was it in memory of a tender meeting?
Was it in memory of a fated parting?
Was it in memory of a lonely walk?
In the peaceful fields or in the shady woods?

Lives he still? Lives she still?
And where their nook this very day?
Or are they too withered
Like unto this unknown floweret?
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