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We walk not of this world way, but by Faith.
For each of us has been promise different things.
Yet we still walk by the same Faith as the other.
We each are on a different path with him as well.
Some Faith may stronger today, but not tomorrow.
For Faith is by hearing, then believing it is true.
We all have the very same objective here in life.
It is to finish this race=Journey that we are on.
Thus then being told by our Savior well done.
 Apr 2016 Call Me Sara
Polar
In a time of deep uncertainty

with my NuBlaccsoUl in ruins.

The kingfisher Ja bade me follow Creepstar

To the mystical place

In search of grace,

beyond sheer Pradip mountains

Where the clear crisp ink of fountain flows.

Here the saints of Ignatius

stop to quench their thirst.

The journey held danger

when I came upon a stranger

I became enchanted by the spells

of a mischievic Pixievic.

Spell bound I watched entranced

  the sheer dexterity of the Busbar dancer

Whereupon My poor dark soul

fell deep in a hole.

I was taken through the worst by Steven Langhorst

To arrive safely at the hallowed grounds of Newvango

Where now I see

the Paradise in me.
There are 11 excellent HP poets within this verse I hope you and they like it.
 Apr 2016 Call Me Sara
Just Melz
There's nothing more romantic
          in my eyes
        Than holding your hand
   And talking about our lives
          Because in my mind
The only thing better than the fantasy
        Is the intimacy I feel
  When it's just you and me
            *connecting
Sapiosexual: Finding someone's intelligence to be their most sexually attractive feature.

For DaSH, the sexiest and smartest man I know. <3
 Apr 2016 Call Me Sara
Sia Jane
We’re looking into each other’s eyes;
it’s 4am.
We’re sat in a hospital room, I’m reciting your favourite verse.
You’re ragged and stitched together;
I just wish it was from being loved.
I just wish my love could make you Real.

I knew from day one, no one and no thing,
not even love, could take you away and finally
set your soul free.

So
I gave you all of me.

It wasn’t hard to give away.
Within moments of witnessing your smile; the one
held in your eyes widening your stare,
you crushed through my ribs with warmth and love,
held my heart in your hand, promising no matter
the distance and land between us, my heart would remain
safe – beneath your bruised chest.

Tonight, I’m alone.
It’s been 17 days since I last saw you.
I’m in the park where we always walked,
where our love was made tangible by etchings in wood.
The bark now crumbles
and the decay mirrors the gradual corrosion
of what was once, and will
never be, again.

© Sia Jane
Incredibly honoured to be daily poem.
I've had such encouragement from all of you here, and I am forever grateful.
Without too much self deprecation, I deserve this spot no more than many of you other great writers out there.
You inspire me daily too <3
Much love and light always, Sia <3


Re-working old writes with some new ideas <3
The angels that you can and cannot see
float in and out of life so gracefully;
enfold in winged embraces one by one,
celestial comforters when day is done.
Some angels take the shapes of passers-by
so you might see the Spirit in their eyes.
A smile that lifts the day from the mundane;
a kind hand up, a loving act conveyed.
The unseen angels hover in the realm
where power manifested overwhelms
our common senses. There behind the scenes
they battle fears and reinforce our dreams.
Take counsel from a humbled man, once proud;
they only enter lives when they're allowed.
 Mar 2016 Call Me Sara
Ree Bunch
Your lies were dipped in bittersweet chocolate;
with a heaping amount of caramel sauce drizzled on top.
I gobbled up more than I care to openly admit;
in fear of what others will think and say.
After enjoying your momentary treats;
came the truth;
with so much salt, it was baffling to eat.

A.K.A

(10 w)

The lies I ate, but
the truth I couldn’t take.
 Mar 2016 Call Me Sara
Pax
loneliness has defined
this old soul.
Bittersweet melody
has tuned my way of
living.

I don't know how much
my heart could stand
the weight and wait
for that simple moment,
that single spark
to feel alive
and stop breathing
the ashen smog of reality.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1410725/ashen-fields/
from ashen gray to ashen fields
comes, ashen smog...

do they care if I'm loved?

perhaps I'm too comfortable on my
own space and too confined to be bothered.

thank you for reading,
me...
In Florida sometimes it rains so hard
that you believe that it can't possibly stop,
that it will just rain and rain forever.

Sometimes I'd wake to a storm late at night,
and I'd sit out on the porch.

You could smell the lightning, and the coolness of the storm would
make your hair stand;
I'd feel so alive.

Some nights I'd go out, and my father
would be sitting on the porch already.
Lost in the storm
or maybe
called to it.
We wouldn't talk,
but we'd be lost together
in the rain and thunder.

Sometimes I wonder what of him
is left in me.
I am not sure
if I am more afraid of there being
very little
or of there being a great deal,
but when it rains
I think about him on that porch;
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