About Sue Vincent
Sue Vincent was a Yorkshire born writer, esoteric teacher and a Director of The Silent Eye. She was immersed in the Mysteries all her life. Sue maintained a popular blog and is co-author of The Mystical Hexagram with Dr G.M.Vasey. Sue lived in Buckinghamshire, having been stranded there due to an accident with a blindfold, a pin and a map. She had a lasting love-affair with the landscape of Albion, the hidden country of the heart. Sue passed into spirit at the end of March 2021.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Yeuch! I know its unreasonable, but no other creature freaks me out like a spider!
LikeLike
Wet worms… that’s my big problem…
LikeLike
*Shudder*!
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
What sort of spider is that? Not furry enough to be a tarantula, but looks big! They eat fried tarantula’s in Cambodia, also red ants as seasoning. Hmmmm. Think I’ll pass on those delicacies. 🙂
LikeLike
I’d have to go for the vegetarian option, I think 🙂
It may be a cardinal spider… it was certainly big enogh 🙂
LikeLike
From Ani, the adorable dog … to… a spider? What are you like?
LikeLike
Call me eclectic 😉 x
LikeLike
*shivers* Ick to spiders, but two thumbs up for the Haiku. ❤ ❤ ❤
LikeLike
They fascinate me… at a distance though please 🙂 Thanks, Tess ❤
LikeLike
I’m going to reblog this, but add to it one of my poems titled, can you guess? “Monsters” 😀
LikeLike
Do help yourself 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Barbarian Writer and commented:
This is my version of “Monsters” ope you enjoy both mine and this from Sue:
Monsters
Monsters are real to an extent, it seems,
But they mainly stick to really bad dreams.
At times, however, a feeling I get
That one may be lurking in the shadows yet.
On a foggy night that fills me with dread,
I think I feel persons long since dead.
They creep through the night and whisper to me;
They tap on my shoulder and laugh with glee.
I feel the icy cold fingers grip me tight
And not want to let up for the rest of the night.
Footsteps behind me make me increase my pace;
In the window’s reflection, I see a dead face.
I hear spectral laughter, my heartbeat increases,
And fear makes me sweat, and want to go to pieces.
I feel the small hairs on the back of my neck
Prickle and stand up like sailors on a deck.
The air turns cold all the sudden it seems,
And then I hear blood curdling screams
Of people who’ve been taken before their time
And search for whomever committed the crime.
(c) 2010 by John T. M. Herres
LikeLike
*Doggone keys not working right. The opening should state the I “Hope you enjoy…”
LikeLike
Well, I did 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on oshriradhekrishnabole.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on theowlladyblog.
LikeLiked by 1 person