Filosofa’s Meandering Mind …

Filosofa's Word

What Is R.E.S.P.E.C.T.?

Yesterday, I played Aretha Franklin’s wonderful song, R.E.S.P.E.C.T.  And then, I did my usual perusal of the day’s news and a question began to form in my mind:  What, precisely, is respect?  My first answer was that it is something we have far too little of in this world today.

A quick look at the online dictionary gives two definitions for the word “respect”:

  • a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.
  • due regard for the feelings, wishes, rights, or traditions of others.

Both are apt, I think, and certainly there are people who deserve our respect as per the first definition, though we might not agree on who those people are.  But the context in which I typically speak of respect is more aligned with the second definition … which can be simplified by my motto:  Live…

View original post 679 more words

Novel as Not Even Thinly Veiled Autobiography??

Context, Thought, and Learning: ShiraDest Offers Project Do Better

    Probably not a good idea, at least so all of the writing experts tell us.  But why, or why not?  I’ve heard it quoted that ‘all novels are autobiographical,’ which makes sense given that any and every line one writes tells much about the writer, no matter what that writer’s intention may have been.  Every word you write reveals something about you.  But you never have a chance to explain or give your own interpretation to your writing.  Once it is out in the world, readers will see in your writing what they wish to see.  Even if it is a true event which they would prefer (and you would also have preferred, for that matter) were not true, or a time when you wondered if you yourself might not be some alien artifact merely sent here to record these odd human goings-on, or if you always thought…

View original post 541 more words

Magnolia Reveries

yaskhan

Alphabets become jeweled figurines
Like studded stars drip-dropping
Sparkling confetti on a magnolia vignette…
I sit in quiet solitude breathing in the solace of sepia memories…crocheting a borealis in my solstice day
Syllables of Monet flame
A potpourri of poesies
Galaxy’s champagne
Serenades my rosette fire
Kaleidoscopic eloquence
Needling a mantle of chrome waltzes
A phonographic euphoria
Etching a musky interlude
Of shared tears
Radiating scarlet of an Amaryllis quill…

View original post

तुतलाहट / Lisp

लोग कहते हैं,मैं कविता लिखता हूंअपनी मां पर,लेकिन तुतलाते हुए बेतरतीबी सेबोले गए शब्द कविता नही होते,फिर भी मैं बोलता और लिखता हूं,क्योंकि मेरी …

तुतलाहट / Lisp

People say,
I write poetry
on my mother,
but words spoken randomly
in a lisp are not poetry,
yet I speak and write,
because my mother
loved my lisp too…


–Kaushal Kishore