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  Apr 2018 Lyda M Sourne
CA Smith
Brick
        By
            Brick
A house is built
Hour
        By
            Hour
The house becomes a home
Day
        By
            Day
The home turns into memories
Year
        By
            Year
The memories turn into people
Century
        By
            Century
The people turn into stories
Story
        By
            Story
Stories turn into legends
Legend
        After
            Legend
History is changed
Piece
        By
            Piece
Lives are changed
Person
        By
            Person
Love is spread
One Love
        After
            Another
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.
Sometimes it's tough when you are just laying bricks to see the end picture, but it makes a difference in the end! It can be so easy at times to feel like we aren't doing enough to help others or to grow ourselves, but one ripple affects the entire pond.
Lyda M Sourne Apr 2018
What a pity it seems,
To wish life as but a dream

As sky and earth part ways,
With once meetings on rainy days

One would wish so,
For time to tread slow

On those glaring heat-haze daze,
Only gone on rainy days
  Apr 2018 Lyda M Sourne
Ash
I'm homesick for a place to which I cannot return
a home that maybe was never mine for the taking,

A home where I once was my most authentic self
it was a home like no other

A salvation,

My heart is restless for home I once called love.

-A
insta: @poetofthewild
Lyda M Sourne Apr 2018
And I thought I had gotten better. Until a voice spoke up inside my head.

"Wow you ****"

"You were nasty. Why would they stick with you."

"You think you deserve this?"

"Your parents are tired of you. They can't afford you."

"Why are you still alive. The career you chose just burdens everyone."

"You don't even play that well."

"You think anyone would ever keep you? Get off your high horse."

"no one likes you."

"You don't belong here. You should just keep on being a person who *****."
Please make it stop. Go away. I don't know you. Where did you come from. I just want to cry. I thought I was better. And you came like a torrent of nasty words that runs through my bloodstream.
  Apr 2018 Lyda M Sourne
trf
Teeth chatter and butts raise above seats,
Riding pickups atop the corduroy road,
Thunder claps of rubber bass beats,
Slapping the undercarriage's rusty odes.

The tires rhythmic riffs are risky,
Clavinet keys echo wood beams over muddy water,
Walter Murphy drinks a Fifth of Beethoven's whiskey,
Leaving superstitions for Stevie to Wander.
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