Each life journey points one in different directions, be it easy, difficult or a mixture of both… choice within said journey dictates how to proceed. Generating joy and peace within one’s self provides the fuel to do the same for others. Walk without guilt and sorrow, seek enlightenment and clarify. When doors close… others open. Choose your destination carefully and enjoy the journey. ✌🏾
Epic poems are long and narrative poems about the adventures and extraordinary feats of people from the distant past. These are poems telling stories.
Remember those days that we spent together. Feels like you’re staying with me now and forever. My dearest friend, I wish those moments would never end. Now that you are free, I hope you are…
J. W. Cassandra: A Csigák földje, novella, groteszk, részlet. Képzeletbeli földet ábrázol a történet, ahol a csigák bűnhődnek azokért a bűnökért, amiket korábban a múltban elkövettek emberként. Osztályokat, illetőleg fajtákat alkottam számukra, és a “házas csiga”, a “tömbházas csiga”, a “kastélyos csiga” kifejezés az épületre utal, amit a hátukon cipelnek. Minden épület az emberire hasonlít. A történetet az “Ismeretlen ösvény” című novelláskötetembe illesztettem. Ugyanide más történeteket, groteszket, filozófiai értekezéseket is raktam, amelyek nem illenek bele a másik 2 kötetbe, “A Létforgatag maszkabáljá”-ba és a “Merész álmok”-ba. Kérlek, olvasd el a weboldalamon a teljes novellát: www.jwcassandra.simplesite.com Remélem, érdekesnek találod a történetet! Illusztráció: joergip31 vagy Jörg Prieser, Pixabay. A történet részletét mind magyarul, mind angolul megosztom.
Land of Snails, by J. W. Cassandra, a short story, a grotesque. I share here a detail of the story. It tells of a fancy land where the snails spend their punishment as snails, for the crimes and sins they had committed as human beings in the remote past. I made classes or kinds for them, and the expressions “housed snail”, “blocked snail” and “castled snail” refer to the kind of building they carry on their backs. All the buildings resemble that of humans. The story itself is placed into my short story volume titled “Unknown Path”. I placed into it all those stories, grotesque, philosophical essays that I could not place into the other 2 volumes, “Masquerade of Life” and “Valiant Dreams”. Please, visit my website for reading the whole story: www.jwcassandra.simplesite.com I hope, you will find my story interesting. Illustration for the story is by joergip31 or Jörg Prieser, Pixabay. I share here the detail of the short story both in English and Hungarian.
A Dirge is an elegy poem written by Christina Georgina Rossetti to lament the untimely death of someone close. In this poem, she beautifully relates the timing of birth and death of this person with seasons.
There once was a angel who couldn’t fly, There once was an angel who could look you in the eye, There once was a angel who could shed a tear, There once was an angel…
At the Foot of the Rock, by J. W. Cassandra: this poem I wanted to share sooner but we have internet in our new home as in a tale: “once upon a time…” So, now I can share it at last. The poem belongs to my volume 16, Light-Source, to cycle House of Life. I chose from Pixabay an illustration, made by dreamypixel or Ales Krivec. (J. W. Cassandra: Szilkafal tövében: a verset korábban szerettem volna megosztani, de csak úgy van internetünk, mint amesében: “hol volt, hol nem volt…” Ezért ilyen késve osztom meg. A vers a 16. kötetembe tartozik: Forrásfény, Az Élet Háza című ciklusba. A Pixabayről választottam illusztrációt, dreamypixel vagy Ales Krivec képét.)
At the Foot of the Rock, by J. W. Cassandra: this poem I wanted to share sooner but we have internet in our new home as in a tale: “once upon a time…” So, now I can share it at last. The poem belongs to my volume 16, Light-Source, to cycle House of Life. I chose from Pixabay an illustration, made by dreamypixel or Ales Krivec.
This poem is for all all those, like me, who hate rains. To me it is a very miserable and depressing weather. There is nothing good about it except the food, hot tea, and fritters.
Never Ending Heavy Storm. Hope it would End One Day… Remained where I was … Others Ran Away. The Storm Remained. They Survived. I died. Save
