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"I am the last monarch of the old world. As Emperor, it is my duty to protect my peoples from their politicians" -Franz Joseph, Emperor of Austria-Hungary

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In Which poor Writing Tropes can sour one's soul

Good morning, my friend, dear reader of this post, and how happy I am to see you, on this Wednesday. How have you been? I always try my best to keep a semblance of writing rhythm when it comes to this journal-blog and so on, but at times it is hard to organize my thoughts. At times it is just sidetracking issues, my mind drift someplace else. So, as always, accept my gratitude for being here, I never take it for granted! Hope your day is okay. As for my own, the past few days were not a disaster! In fact, I think I am fine enogh, for the most part. I think the tropes of writing are very damaging when someone thinks they can be applied to real life, as well. Just picture this: at times, specially for the least for the less imaginative, a story to keep going, when things are alright for the protagonist, the writer, unknown invisible force on the story, throw things at this happiness to ruin it, so the point can get across. It is cheesy in a narrative to have such rhythm. But it gets even...
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In which I make a poem to Wirt!

Hello everyone! Happy Saturday to you!! Good Morning and I wish you the best!!! How are you today and how are things going? As usual, I hope your day is going well! How is the weather where you are? Here, it is hot I'd say, but not as it was back on April, those were the days when we received a small sample from Hell! I guess it's The Heavens reminding us to not sin, or face the consequences! Effective, well played! And talking about it, I've been wanting to do a proper homage to my wonderful favorite character of Over The Garden Wall Wirt for a while now, and today I managed to do so, composing a poem for this sensible person that I love so much, here is one of my homages to him.

I found this fanart here! And find it quite wonderful

WIRT'S QUIET MARCH
By Daniel M.

With the sound of clarinets, he comes
Wirt of the sensible soul, worried eyes
Sense for details, he goes through the turtles

Able to recognize Rococo, and aware of his lamentations
Wirt, the romantic being, cries in hopelessness
The landscape is freezing, the music won't stop
He keeps on walking, his coat protects him

Wirt, the kind being with a concerned heart
Too many times he felt like his life was slipping
He finds love and it feels out of reach, not something he can grasp

But Wirt still goes, his soul won't skip
There's joy on him, he has faith in art
Worrysome won't kill his spirit

With the sound of clarinets, he goes
Wirt of the sensible soul, kind eyes
Bravely on a worthy quest
He goes through the turtles
...

And with this small poem, I finish today's post! And of course, happy month of June! Corn season is coming and guess what? My blog will be one year old in just 7 days! Sounds amazing!!! I can't believe I've been writing for this long now! Quite a joyous ocasion is coming! Thank you so much for being here, like I said wish you the best dear reader, you are the very best, and I see you next time soon!

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