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ohai.social

Zeitpunkt              Nutzer    Delta   Tröts        TNR     Titel                     Version  maxTL
So 11.08.2024 00:00:00    39.422      +7    1.475.796    37,4 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Sa 10.08.2024 00:00:30    39.415      +6    1.474.731    37,4 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Fr 09.08.2024 00:01:05    39.409      +3    1.473.101    37,4 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Do 08.08.2024 00:00:17    39.406      +2    1.471.279    37,3 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Mi 07.08.2024 00:00:06    39.404      +3    1.469.436    37,3 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Di 06.08.2024 00:00:11    39.401      +2    1.467.719    37,3 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Mo 05.08.2024 00:00:06    39.399       0    1.465.851    37,2 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
So 04.08.2024 00:01:14    39.399      +3    1.465.031    37,2 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Sa 03.08.2024 00:03:58    39.396      +2    1.463.392    37,1 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500
Fr 02.08.2024 00:04:18    39.394       0    1.461.367    37,1 ohai.social               4.3.0...   500

So 11.08.2024 15:58

Still practising.

Somebody gave me three random words:
rose, gutter, emu

This is what came out of it.


@poetry

Seasonal Shift

Backlit flowers on a golden evening, a spicy scent of rose.
As the season calls its shift, heart-shaped petals fill the gutter.
It is calm, but my thoughts race with long steps like an emu.

Emotions in motion, like a locomotion in the shape of an emu,
as the ostrich in me pulled its head out of the sand and rose
its view to the sky, my thoughts out of the gutter.

I carefully lower my hands to pick my heart up from the gutter,
brush off dirt, and petals, place it in my chest, slow down the emu,
invite it to stop for a moment, and smell amongst the roses a rose.

My guts tell me the rose covered gutter is in the past, now, that the emu stopped running.

© @KokopelliBFree

Seasonal Shift Backlit flowers on a golden evening, a spicy scent of rose. As the season calls its shift, heart-shaped petals fill the gutter. It is calm, but my thoughts race with long steps like an emu. Emotions in motion, like a locomotion in the shape of an emu, as the ostrich in me pulled its head out of the sand and rose its view to the sky, my thoughts out of the gutter. I carefully lower my hands to pick my heart up from the gutter, brush off dirt, and petals, place it in my chest, slow down the emu, invite it to stop for a moment, and smell amongst the roses a rose. My guts tell me the rose covered gutter is in the past, now, that the emu stopped running. © @KokopelliBFree

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