"pradip" poems
A Year ago, in the same date
As A Stranger I entered this beautiful Garden Hp
A Beautiful flower (Elsa) drags me with her pure heart
Wise words (from wolf, Sir Poet,Jack, etc.) kept me to know the life’s secret
Sweet buds (Smiriti, Aarvie,) enjoys me with their great writes
Love Birds (Brandon &jane;) echoes me their beautiful rhythms
My Beautiful Bros (ryn, Joe, pradip,spt, Mufiq) supports me and admires with their strong writes
My Sweet sisters (Donna, pax, nimah, Vicki) fills my heart with their pure poems
All my new friends (Eddie, patty, gray l, tropica, wepping willow, Mysterious , Jimmy, its gona make sense, packin heat ,Poetry journal,Dark n beautiful, Wilson, Rose, James, Margaux, Asim, etc) gave me beautiful space and spirits..
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
In a time of deep uncertainty
with my NuBlaccsoUl in ruins.
The kingfisher Ja bade me follow Creepstar
To the mystical place
In search of grace,
beyond sheer Pradip mountains
Where the clear crisp ink of fountain flows.
Here the saints of Ignatius
stop to quench their thirst.
The journey held danger
when I came upon a stranger
I became enchanted by the spells
of a mischievic Pixievic.
Spell bound I watched entranced
the sheer dexterity of the Busbar dancer
Whereupon My poor dark soul
fell deep in a hole.
I was taken through the worst by Steven Langhorst
To arrive safely at the hallowed grounds of Newvango
Where now I see
the Paradise in me.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 4:04 PM UTC
Friends, there are many(I think, I hope). So, to be fair, I will respond with this.
"Stricly an Opinion"
October 20, 2014 8:40a.m.
On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did. Why?
Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!
But that is the core of the HP Family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, with the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.
One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.
We will keep trying.
Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
again, madness!
one eye tears, why must you return to the old familiar,
the poets prescribed, already so well covered?
why?
must. it is the only shade of my voice that persists,
all else vanity.
these are words handily eye-read, given.
all I need do is “repeat after me” somewhat well,
and fill in the blanks.
<>
he writes me, in another place, to another name, describing himself:
“I'm a charming man with a fragile patience.”
no sir, Muses order me to disagree,
you are a fragile man with a charming patience!
your fragility is a royal hallmark, embedded in every scribing,
this human indentation, always well hidden, on the underside of the wine cup, the base of the candlesticks, the inside of the wedding ring of your tying allegiance to the humbled humanity.
the charming patience is the wait time tween your visions of
the excellence of the common, the exquisites of the small,
the delights of loss and pain translated into mercurial milestones,
poems.
here I cease, for overly long praise is a river too long, no end in sight,
making great and wide just another poem.
<>
But!
he writes me, in another place, to another name, describing himself,
yet again:
*”A thousand poems I don't write, but they get written
in my heart.*”
A thousand!
ours is the patience fragile, your innate screen that filters out
these thousand forbidden unwritten,
needs a cleaning, open the tiny apertures and release them, for we are the humans needing, for the breathing of your fragile charm.
<>
the Muses do thee attend.
their patience neither charming or fragile,
reminding me, they too have a thousand.
a thousand other ears into which to whisper that
imperative imperial command,
and they river no delay...
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 11:12 AM UTC
To thank each one of you,
Today, I take the opportunity,
By taking names for your support.
For being the source,
First of all, I thank Life,
For the inspiration she was.
She guided me to Hello Poetry,
Introduced me to new friends,
Broke up ultimately however.
Then I thank Timothy Salter,
For his own and his family's,
Articulate poetry helped me.
Madam Hilda writes as amazing,
And as amazing is their daughter,
It is hard to tell if Marian wrote it.
It's helping me learn more,
Respecting it has taught me,
Had to be paid to earn more.
Not forgetting Gitacharya Vedala,
For he elaborates on every detail,
Thereby helping me experiment.
Same is for Pradip Chattopadhyay,
Hinting of Rabindranath Tagore,
He's the poet clad in sombrero.
Their pure physics at soul poetry,
Helped me learn experimenting,
With sheer hollow truthfulness
I then engage in remembering,
Elsa Angelica for inspiring me,
Her own poetry is developing.
She inspired me to improve,
My strengths & weaknesses,
She taught me being lucid.
Then of course I thank Sukeerti,
She taught me being beautiful,
Without being too explaining.
She encouraged my writing,
Always was their as a friend,
Giving me her positive inputs.
Madam Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Squires,
Aptly mature her poetry is always,
Very much to learn always exists.
Her persona is respectable,
Definitely motherly her aura,
Making her a poet so reputable.
Several other poets fascinate me,
Equally instead of less or more,
They all teach me the lessons.
Madam Sally A Bayan is there,
Her sweet mature bits of advice,
Best complemented by her poetry.
Shayana Shrikanthalingam,
Seeing all her polished poetry,
Not such a difficult name for me.
Ever inseparable they are,
Brandon & Earl Jane Nagley,
They are the immortal lovers.
And I recognize the beauty,
An Indian model here on H.P.,
Poetry surely as cute as herself.
She is the most elegant girl,
On Hello Poetry and in reality,
Bhumika Fulwani I refer to here.
Finally, I express my gratitude to her,
In my life she's the ultimate one,
Now I needn't anyone else.
She is my Pooja Shah,
She is exclusively mine,
She is here forever to stay.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom)
“a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed
a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds.
to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally
“Sweet baby
with your head on my shoulder
I'm no more growing older...” Pradip
~
the unpredictability and randomness of the winds,
seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard,
powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic,
who can grow others who can feed
who can sustain multiple living creatures
each seed unique, a poem composed and complete,
authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors,
utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun,
rainwater from space and deep driven to
the clear milk of underground railroad rivers,
to give nurture to its revisional generational code
these new children of an old mix,
are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive,
that those who will one day grow old,
with deep gnarled roots, are most capable
of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within,
to those who give babies homage, in attendance
this then the newborn miracle, the new seed,
wind borne, replants itself in old soil,
taking but more so giving,
injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry,
how can this be?***
*I do not know the why or the how,
but am evidence of the therefore,
and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom*
7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
words conveyed with a mutual clarity parity for communication
will end only when the world ends first
and the communitas is no more,and words, exist purposelessly
for there is no left with whom to communicate, precisely
but now, of this moment,
write words, sentences multiplied but circumscribed,
verses with mystical aura,
whose utility so suspect and multiple meanings hidden within,
taken by you for the specific utility you uncover and create
ah, to write of things clearly visible to all,
but possessed differently, by each reader, this is the greatest commonsensical commonwealth useful
for and of humans indexed by unique word tendons tenderly
when this passes, when literature no longer
can be messengered to 127 Persian provinces,
each the message same,
yet given up in 127 different languages^
when you understand my poems perfectly then,
*their utility is inutile,
the usefulness is in the* nth reinterpretation,
*a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth wired inner construct,
being pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
a lives paired wine tasting, together believing
in the greatness of joyous frustration
some say, I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our armed embrace at last*
p.s. Pradip, be careful what you wish for....a poet false...
9:15am April 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 9:29 AM UTC
Tomorrow the baseball Hall of Fame will announce the newest members selected to join her hallowed hall. Ken Griffey Jr. will surely be selected.
I wish Hello Poetry had a Hall Of Fame. There are so many poets and good friends worthy of.
In absence of, I wish to nominate the following poets for the first class when and if it is ever created. My criteria for selection to this Hello Poetry Hall of Fame are:
A feeling heart
loves poetry
is a friend to others in the community
A Triple Crown.
Time and space are the only reason I have not listed all poets here at Hello Poetry:
Vicki (My Queen, a love child of Whitman and Dickinson)
Christi Michaels MoonFlower
mark cleavenger
Musfiq us shaleheen
brandon cory nagley
The Masked Pimpernel
rebecca askew
Sjr1000
Pradip Chattopadhyay
elsa angelica
Eddie Starr Poetry
ryn
Weeping willow
KetomaRose
Steven Langhorst
Mike Essig
Willard Wells
Woody
Elizabeth Squires
SoulSurvivor
Pax
Grace
Dave Kavanagh
Sumina Thapaliya
FJ Davis
SE Reimer
Sally A Bayan
solEmn oaSis
Melissa S
Arcassin B
..... and to those I failed to mention I apologize. I am thinking of you, also, but time and space are the only limitations to my list of nominees.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
In my "Thought for the Day XLIII" (43), I spoke of poets that have been with me, and supported me for quite some time. Sally and Pradip have been with me since my first posting, "1894", nearly two years ago, and I have "adopted" Vicki, Catherine, Ryn, Deborah, Pamela Rae,and others along the way. There is Quinn, Phil, Pradip, Francie, Frankie J, Mike, John, Nat, SE Reimer, Sverre, "The 'Ole Storyteller!" and,"Larry, Moe, and Curly Joe!"
Unfortunately, I cannot list everyone, in fear of overlooking writers who, collectively, mean so much to me. Please forgive me for that.
I will continue to "do my best" for all of the poets/writers/contributors to the HP site. I do not write for monetary remuneration, but for relaxation and recreation, with the end result, hopefully, bringing a smile to my peers. I thank all of you for allowing me to attempt, and occasionally, reach that goal.
Sincerely
Richard Riddle- June 03, 2015
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
after five years
when I write her a love poem,
she is always surprised,
her unexpectation
so very pleases me.
after five years
when I write her a love poem,
I am always surprised,
that a new way to say it,
uncovered.
but this I can tell you,
not once
do I ever write
nor will I ever pen
those I love you words.
they are too easy, too cheap,
a dime a dozen,
naked words make me weep,
dress 'em, cloak 'em, try to
Pradip 'em in
mystery, charming humor,
use conjuring spells of
Bala imagery unreal,
Bzynga!
work hard to tell her why,
work hard to guard your originality,
work hard to tell her in ways
that her into me
smiling, crying, punching.
so I write love poems,
every now and then,
special ways recalled,
teasing her about her forgetfulness,
about her teasing me with rhyming
that is less than spectacular,
how my body has
reshaped itself to fit her.
tell her
I love you,
plain,
well that be downright,
pffft.
(an interjection used to express or indicate
a dying or fizzling out)
the key is to tell her
in a fashion original,
personal to us.
that what all these endless
love poems here strive,
but too oft, fail to arrive.
all tricked up, too direct,
passion burnt used up
after but a single read
stroke her cheek
with soft stanzas,
torrential directness,
no subtly,
fizzles.
write for the long haul,
words that five years hence,
words that five hundred years hence,
make her into me
smiling, crying, punching,
like the first time
she read them,
like they did
five years ago.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
I want to thank Vicki, Poetry Journal, Paul Butter, Adhi das, Mia, FJ Davis .
Anu, Sukeeti, Paul Gaffney,NvrMd, Pradip, It gonna make sense, Marian.
Timothy,Jasmine,Georgia,Janiloms,Iluvia,Nameless wonder,Firefly, Bianca.Mike Hauser , Mohamed ,Falen Acon,MydystopiA, Vanessa Gatley, and Nicole.
Plus so many more whom poems are so beautiful, they touch us all.
I just want to let you all know on here that you are truly appreciated.
For all of your beautiful words , feelings that went into your poems.
I just wanted to say thank you to each and everyone of you all here.
God bless each of you today and every single day that you live here.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 6:53 AM UTC
**Show not their thinnest trace
let the words wear a happy face
how harsh may be the day’s living
hide the tears and broken wing!
Write me one sunshine poem
for my day dwindling in burning flame
needs your ink to see me through
by words beaming with lights of you!**
(Poem by Pradip Url : http://hellopoetry.com/poem/856652/write-me-one/)
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
*Some where far my friend pleads
Masked their pain from sight to heed
Faking a smile they'll cheer others
Encouraging and urging, through their tears
So my heart goes out to them
I can't solve their primal needs
But my little light within me
Shine out as a beacon's beam
Friend dearest I plead
Troubles may try you
But you are bigger than these
Don't forget the gift you hold
Your sweet words are someone's world
Your pain may blind your eyes
But we are standing nearby
Though far away we may seem
Together like Sunshine we shall beam
The light within shall chase the gloom
Rivers of Love together shall stream.*
(Towards you!)
Million Hugs!
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
~
had i not known wrong
i had been the lesser man
had i not sung winter’s song
i had known no warmth to gain
had i never tasted blood
i failed to see fragility
and had i not these understood
life’s tenderness was lost to me.
~
*post script.
for Pradip who shared the only muse these words were wanting on this special holy-day. please read SJR's gorgeous post, but then see Pradip’s after-words here: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2246391/gratitude/
Epiphany: January 6th https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epiphany_(holiday)*
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
The Mendacity of Beauty, Marvels of the Mundane
<1/1/2023 10:38 PM>
commissioned by Pradip^
<>
A special carnet permits the day,
though day itself unremarkable,
permissioning of a thousand,
even, tens of ten thousand
grasping new love poems
all mundane, all marvelous
an aborning of odes re the
vastness of sea, sandy sky,
multifarious penumbras of hewn hues,
vibrantly diverse, still, requiring the
expanse and pretense of “new”
adjectives and metaphoric
in combos recalculating
precisely, it’s the enormity,
of the difficulty of verbal capture
upon tablet of these natural treasures,
once, more, yet again, but in somehow in a new-never
quite-before conceptional~postulation-realization
I sojourn amidst both man made and natural beauty,
provoking, invoking, a steady stream of potable knowledgeables, performing as a hand-written-thank-you-note for the grace, the imagination of their mishmash existences addressed only to
“whom it may truly concern…”
I’m eager to confess that the poetry inherent in the
mundane, requiring not-so-easy mining, a sales taxing
innovation to capture the subtlety of less visible flecks of gold, that present a rarer challenge to the poet’s senses where glory abides in pyrite pebbles strewn and trod upon by most indifferently,
*ah, write of the marvel of the mundane,
**** dare you!*
<>
^Pradip: “writing of the mundane is mandatory for me…”
Aug 12 2022
Jul 1, 2023
Jul 1, 2023 at 11:10 AM UTC
“a decade old is forever new, for
truth is never old.”
Pradip Chattopadhyay
this man, ten years of inspiration, ten years of friendship, here,
on HP,
provides nourishment to my lagging body as it nears eight decades
of Earthly occupation, for
his eyes and heart and his mastery
of the songs of the tongue,
have wrenched me straight,
we, attentive to the tears
he makes me weep, for his insights penetrate my insides,
even now as one, unexpectedly, reflects midst
yet another first poem of the day, my eyelids blink away
the wet,
my brain revels at his pithy, how he corrals,
encapsulates the daily smoke and fire of life,
it truest value,
in words that make one wonder,
what admixture of mineral, chemical, history,
adventures, atmosphere, parentage, spices,
love gives him these super powers to gentle
seize the moment, size our souls, causing my
cheeks to wide smile, while mine eyes sheds
monsoon droplets of feelings so deep, that
my repaired heart oxygenates my very soul,
making me high, my mind reels that a day will
come inevitable
that one of us will be unable to sit by side,
swapping tales of granddaughters, and
other earth meaningful events, to walk his
streets or he, mine, finishing each other’s
couplets.
to think that I awoke with no intention of
composing this paean, but his brief pearl
knocks my head side to side,
and with the
tears, come words,
that age, or an entire
decade,
cannot restrain,
retrained to modesty,
for regarding my friend
Pradip,
my boundaries expand and cannot be
contained, even by my delimited vocabulary,
the paucity of my skill, the insufficiency of
the adjectives acquired over a lifetime, but
do my unequal-to-the-task best efforts,
but without choice, but compulsed, compelled,
one more time, to say,
to my new day,
perhaps my last,
I love this poet~man.
this is one of my truths.
<>
Wed Jan 17 8:31am
City of New York
<>
read the poetry of
https://hellopoetry.com/pradip-chattopadhyay/
<>
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 12:27 PM UTC
From September - 2016
"Comforting", it is-
in its application"
"Calming", it is-
in its purpose"
"Love",
is its message"
Whether applied to an infant babe in a crib....
or making the tears of a crying child disappear...
or, simply giving a hug to mom and dad.......
or, your children.......grandchildren.........
or, to a friend.......
Channeled thru you... from heaven..........
The "power".................of..............a "touch"
r.riddle: 09-18-2016
*inspired by Pradip Chattopadhyay's "Distance"
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
~for Pradip~
*these words,
a blessing bestowed
upon me, by you,
about us
say kiss me write love me
for all the contextual hints that lie
within and between them ~
"gloriously adhesive"
a monument to our five years
of living together,
the friction of our grip upon each other,
under one roof, in a land of
no matter
what the language,
what the alphabet,
we are the prime,
a living example,
of the human~poem,**
our glorious adhesion!
<•>
from only love poetry,
I rename you here,
only love Pradip
8/25/17
6:40PM
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 6:51 PM UTC
My sun
Light of my day
Star of my world
So far yet near
You bring me joy
You warm my soul
My sol
My morning call
My prayer to you
My salutation
My bija mantra
Surya Namaskar
Namaskar
Ardha Chandrasana
Padangusthasana
Surya darshan
Purvottanasana
Adho Mukha Svanasana
Shashtanga Dandawat
Bhujangasana
Adho Mukha Svanasana
Surya darshan
Padangusthasana
Ardha Chandrasana
Namaskar
r ~ 9/15/14
For my good friend Pradip's call for a sun poem.
(Poem by Pradip Url : http://hellopoetry.com/poem/856652/write-me-one/)
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
Disgusted, and saddened
Vicki’s poetry (and kindness) is an absolute inspiration
She was one of the first (along with Mary, Pradip and WK) to take the time to read and comment on my mediocre work...a jolt every aspiring poet needs
If you are listening Vicki...God bless you
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 12:14 PM UTC
~ ~ ~ A POEM FOR PRADIP ~ ~ ~
(a repost)
In these early hours of evening
when sun has dipped down, hiding
cold has set in, warmth cooled by wind blowing,
your words haunt me, left me pondering.
For a sunshine poem, you asked,
but how? when it is now dusk,
there is no sun, only dark to show,
not even a moon aglow.
All i see are fiery dots of light, shimmering
in the garden, i am alone, wondering
I do not see them closely
yet, i feel they could be friendly.
They are luminous lanterns, seemingly beaming,
could these suffice to keep your flame burning?
In the widening dark, they bask
to perform their given task
carrying drops of hope with their sparkles,
scattered ***** of chances, radiated by lighted candles.
They are so tiny, collectively bright,
wandering, even on a moonless summer night...
I have not one sunshine poem for you,
instead, thousands of Fireflies, i offer you
to let their light shine upon your face
dry every bit of sadness, leaving not a trace.
to dry tears hidden
ease your shoulders laden.
I wish i could see your smile
hug you, even just for a while
wear your sombrero
'til day after tomorrow.
I pray my words have beamed enough,
to save your day, to see you through...
F I R E F L I E S
by
Sally
Copyright September 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 8:21 AM UTC
Pradip marks the slow disappearance of faces in the market,
unknown yet familiar and thus important to the senses,
for our eyes crave continuity, comfort reassuring that time,
even time that robber par excellent, still provides some comfort
to our souls, in its own way, even the faces of strangers in familiar places are road markers, bookmarks, that even the known unknown offer a measure of solace, as we traverse the old familiar places
of daily life.
it must be remedied. some of you know that I make not idle promises,
that my promises to be there are effected, for I am affected by the
repair of the world in little, measurable manners, so the iCal calendar
modified with a Visit Pradip++, a new addition…
and on the way there
are few more exotic places where poetry grows that
will require some
layover visitations…
only time in its theiving secretive ways stands between me and
you denied grasping arms, taking the measure physical of a
beating heart
and river-wide smile,
maybe even I’ll practice with a trip to
remote foreign places, which they speak
the languages of poetry too,
Snake River, even Iowa!
olp/n.n.
Dec 19, 2023
Dec 19, 2023 at 9:34 AM UTC
Bengal Lancers.
Bengal Tigers.
Bengali in a sombrero?
Bengal Pradip:
Priceless.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
shock and awe, shown the light, shown the door,
by the literary muses, kings and queens,
and the royal cooks, of course,
all rouse me at 4:00 am,
to salute those who can cook,
knowing how to summer simmer a simple broth of love
with richest, tasty, succinct, succulent brevity
that
keeps this wordy would be poet,
honest
all the varied spices,
artful adjectives, verbose verbs, numbing, never-heard-of nouns
are humbled in joy, all join this poet,
to honor the
curried simplicity
of
the Bengali cook of love
from India
who says it reverently,
all
in
one
simple sentence,
sourced locally
love is his staple,
love is rice
~
5/31/17
4:10am
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 5:40 AM UTC
Pradip
Meaning
A light or a shine
It's from Sanskrit
and a base language
of all Indian languages
Why I want to take this name
I want to appreciate
Pradip chattapodyay
For his 1400 poems
in his hello poetry account
I wish he will share his knowledge
and wisdom
like a light source
to all of us
continuously
Thank you for your work
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
October 20, 2014 8:40a.m.
On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did. Why?
Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!
But that is the core of the HP family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, and the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.
One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.
We will keep trying.
Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC