There is nothing like, for a thirsty voice, water clear and sweet,
A loaf of bread for a hungry man and his misery would retreat.
There is nothing like, for tired eyes, a night of gentle sleep,
Nothing like, for a weary body, the comfort of slumber deep.
There is nothing more stirring than a new born's hushed cries,
And nothing more heart warming than a twinkle in tiny eyes.
There is nothing like, for a tearful child, his mothers warm hold,
Or the wisdom of generations through his father told.

There is nothing like, for an unsteady heart, the call of a friend,
No aching heart that a friends love can not heal or mend.
There is nothing like, for a bruised soul, the calm of gentle words,
The miracle of a kind voice in deep recesses heard.
There is nothing like, for a battered heart, the comfort of a smile,
The promise of a tomorrow, though it may take a while.
There is nothing like, for a broken spirit, the touch of a helping hand
Gestures never washed away... eternal footprints in the sand.

I stand on the shore, my feet sinking in the sands,
My hair tousled wild in winds hustling hands,
Covering my face, veiling my eyes,
Distantly, I hear the seagulls, their yearning cries.
I grip firmer and hold myself tight,
In dusk's diminishing, dwindling twilight.

I watch the waves lunge at me -
Overwhelming, menacingly.
But as they race to the shore, reaching my feet
They drench me, turn back and then recede.

I see another wave, I yearn to move a step behind.
Fear and uncertainty fill my troubled mind.
But I still stand, stand my ground,
Unmindful of the sounds,
Of the winds and the waves,
In a trance, lost, nature's slave.

I nearly fall, my balance lost,
Taken by surprise, by waves tossed.
But I still stand, stand with unsteady feet,
Where the land and waters meet.

I, on the seashore, a speck, besides a sea so vast -
I know that each wave will rest and it too shall pass.

Try this!  Another site I rarely visit [long since extinct by 2017], had that weekly challenge and this time it read as follows:

Using the poetic style of your choice, answer the question “Who am I?”, without using the pronoun “I”. Instead, write your “poetic biography” in 3rd person.

Here was my submission....does it make sense?

Yours Truly

(sonnet # CCCCXLVII)


No butterfly, perhaps a moth? just lent
Some precious time to try to fly while night
Reigns, ere the morning dawns.   A reckless wight
E'er chasing carefree; mayhap too, half bent
Unwitting on a troubled course, intent
On fun and happiness whilst grief its plight
Imbues with sob'ring grey, as if t'indict?
Where time's misspent in tracing romance' scent?
"Forgiven" as a blessing daily sought,
Its nameplate hangs for all the world to see.
And if Truth's lessons seeming dearly bought
May mercif'ly be granted taught, 'twill be
A better ending than this vain life's wrought,
If when time's up, it flies, O LORD, to Thee.

07Jan12
D66d
By Jennifer S. Gordon aka Cheeky Missy

My Heart breaks out the sorrows
And bleeds out that empathy and pain..

I saw the look in his eyes
I felt the room tense up,
I knew he ment it the way he did
I saw the love in his eyes,

I saw a man silently asking his daughter
To forgive him.. for what?..

For every time our relationship ******!!..
Because he loves me more then he's mad at me.. more then any trouble we caused each other..

An I to him am sorry as Well,
Because over all, at the end of the day..
What matters is.. we love each other..


Sometimes listening is the best thing you can do.. not only with your ears..
But being smart enough to pick up what's going on..

But sometimes you just need to hear someone to tell you.. they love you..

Because sometimes.. that's all you need.