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I know my thoughts and words
Will never turn the tide
But I know that twice a day
A stopped clock is right.
Born writer, passionate about making words sound pretty to make people smile, ponder, and think.
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The Brag That I am (Alive)
Mar 01, 2019 5 years agoToo much love to give Means too much love to hide And too much self approval Means too much indulgence and strife Too much water given And the water is turned to wine Too much sharing present And it is never thine But ever mine ever ours Excess of April Showers Brings only floods in May And Draught in June. You, lift up thy face to the Hoary head And stop. And wait. How long? Until you realise that pain is seldom evil As it forces one to acknowledge The beating of their own heart
Photographs.
Feb 26, 2019 5 years agoIndeed from stream and strike of loving heart I gave myself to life and it to me. It pains not me to mourn when i depart, Upon the hour my life will cease to be. For I am she who sailed on seven sins And learnt and laughed with friend and foe anew. I am the one who re-tuned painful dins When destiny's drums beat my path a strew. 'O dearest life,' said she who smiled with pride, 'You are my best accomplice, yet my woe; You taunt us with deceiving easy ride- O cunning charmer, all our fears you know. Yet such magnificence you do behold When human hearts are sanctioned to unfold.'
Not the End
Feb 24, 2019 5 years agoWhen happiness whispers don't be afraid to beckon its call. Run with your heart facing outwards, You will go on, you have the soul. Take the wild ways not the right ways. You should heed the advice you dream of in between twilight and sleep. Hear your heart assuredly tell you that all will be more than fine, You will be wonderful. Sing yourself a song using only the good notes And in the intricate episodes, when you smile inwardly to your beautiful self, Shake off the guilt like a dandelion shakes its seeds And realise happiness is your heritage as much as Spring bequeaths unto summer. In the windmills of your mind you see mocha hearts, sepia tainted memories of children's shoes and strawberry fields, Laughter shading the soft hum of the midday heat. Heed the women before you and listen to the brag of your own heart; You are, you forever will be, let your mind mend, It is all all right, it is not the end. The only weight you need to feel is the one being lifted off your shoulders, and replaced with another body next to yours. There are no lucky ones. Only the undulating optimism of love, of hope. Contentment arrives at the doors of the humble, the vulnerable, The ones whose hearts plead more at the perishing of others Than the affliction in their own. Affection lacks originality so don't dwell on your verbal incompetence, But instead take pleasure in the blessing that whatever you say will be yours, As words belong to you
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