The moon’s breast

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Photo by flickr user Jim  Liestman. Appearing via cc: license. All rights revert to originator.

 

My brother’s garden

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Sunburned by a stream

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Basho – Slender, so slender

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Photo by flickr user Arnoud Boekhoorn. All rights revert to originator.

Slender, so slender
its stalk bends under dew —
little yellow flower.

 

-Matsuo Bashō, 17th c. Japan

Reasons to hire a writer

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If you’re not going to proofread your own work don’t you think it’s a good idea to have someone else do it for you? What possible return can a business hope for from such a slipshod investment of time & resources?

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Edgar Allan Poe – Alone

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Photo by flickr user Kevin Dooley. Appearing via cc: All rights revert to the originator.

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were–I have not seen
As others saw–I could not bring
My passions from a common spring–
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow–I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone–
And all I lov’d–I lov’d alone–
Then–in my childhood–in the dawn
Of a most stormy life–was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still–
From the torrent, or the fountain–
From the red cliff of the mountain–
From the sun that ‘round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold–
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by–
From the thunder, and the storm–
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view–

                              -Edgar Allan Poe, 1875