Star Wuerdemann says...

• I looked at my own bookshelves.
• I asked librarians after telling them about my book.
• I asked other writers, especialy writer friends
• Goodreads and Amazon
• I researched the last three years of “best of” lists.
• I researched debut books of the last three years in my genre.
• I checked out a ton of books
• I considered what books I would expect my readers to be reaching for and thought about why—then applied this to my search.
• Websites for my search next time: https://www.bookbrowse.com... target="_self">BookBrowse and https://www.literature-map... target="_self">Literature-Map.

Haniwa - Kiyoshi Saito

🎨✨ The beauty of art lies in its ability to evoke emotions and tell stories without words. Every brushstroke and color choice is a glimpse into the artist's soul. Let’s celebrate the power of creativity today! #Art #Creativity #Inspiration

Purple Terminology & Rainbow Clouds

Light winged smoke, the one to blame,
Creeping out from my minds clear flame.
Silvery surface of my imagination,
Fading to black, from all accusation.
I lay upon the midnights shadowy skirts,
Watching black moonbeams with the stars emberresed.
Heavenly leisure, waiting over the top,
But I keep falling, I cant seem to stop.
Purple terminology filling me instead,
Of red or yellow flowers buds, opening their heads.
Great waves from an ocean so blue,
I heed not this, buts its monsters, always true.
Whats left, in this world thats fake?
Just I, rusting with the mistakes.
Rainbow clouds of sweet lullaby,
Take me now, I'm ready to die.

Portrait of a child - Laurent Mc

When my dreams end

What lies over a rainbow...
That catches our soul...

What does the voice in the wind have to say...
To bring you wondering each passing day...

Why does your reflection shimmer in a churning stream...
Making you wonder if life is nothing but a dream...

And perhaps that's all life really is, a dream.
Because things never really stay what they seem.

Like grains of sand...
Slipping through a grasping hand...

You just can't seem to hold onto them.
Like light slowly leaving, and making a room dim.

And if life is nothing but a dream then what shall happen when it dies away.
Fading like a flower when the autum night takes over its summer day.

What shall happen when my dreams end...
Shall another start, and I just mend?

Or perhaps I will give in and just die.
Taking my last breath as a long sigh.

Oh, what shall happen when my dreams depart?
Shall I then just wither away and fall apart?

And gasp a long cry into the nocturnal air as the moon gazes down upon my poor, dying soul.
Watching me wither, and to end all, dying like flames upon a single piece of coal.

Why must it be this way?
Why must I end my day...

Oh, I hope and I so desperatly plead.
That this dream to not let me bleed.

To hold onto me.
And let me see.

My life, my dream...
My reflection... in the stream...

drawing artwork

Blue color on body photo artistic