~ are these the last ones / or the ones that'll last? ~

Journey Home c.2013, Olan L. Smith Journey Home is a collection of poems that is a personal search for my spiritual home. I go about this search with the tools of poetry using the English language as my map. Love, peace and freedom, Olan L. Smith

* FEATURED ON @WattpadPoetry * A Haiku and Senryu collection. "All that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream." - Edgar Allan Poe

When Pascale Auber is forced out of the airship of the evil Dr. Simpelstur, she finds herself rescued by a handsome Ruritanian diplomat, Theo von Hentzau. Pascale soon realizes that Theo is hiding something - something to do with the evil doctor, the equally perfidious Archduke of Ruritania, and a string of anarchist bombings that have rocked the capital on the eve of the royal wedding. Adventure, romance, mystery, airships, fraternal twins, troublesome schoolchildren, an opera diva, an absent-minded professor, and a number of suspicious explosions await! Cover made in Canva; main image generated with Bing AI. Updates Fridays!

"We are all connected to each other biologically, to the earth chemically, and to the rest of the universe atomically." -Neil deGrasse Tyson Original image credit: NASA Earth Observatory/NOAA NGDC Highest rank: #229 05/17/2016

The Sword and the Sickle is a fusion of religion, science, and prophecy, weaving a tale of the end of days where celestial forces collide with earthly fate. Within its pages, ancient gods, interdimensional beings, and prophetic visions shape a battle beyond time itself. The novel explores the unknown, blending cosmic mystery and spiritual reckoning into a narrative that challenges the boundaries between belief and reality. Some chapters delve into the raw nature of existence, marked by mature themes of power, devotion, and destruction. Cover art is by me, Olan Smith

my personal favourites in one book. these all come from older collections. hardly any of the media belong to me

perhaps?

One cannot always tell what it is that keeps us shut in, confines us, seems to bury us, but still one feels certain barriers, certain gates, certain walls. Is all this imagination, fantasy? I do not think so. And then one asks: My God! Is it for long, is it for ever, is it for eternity? Do you know what frees one from this captivity? It is very deep serious affection. Being friends, being brothers, love, that is what opens the prison by supreme power, by some magic force. Vincent van Gogh, letter to his brother, July 1880 (ruby's letters may be read in any order, but the oldest is no 1.)