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Mary Huxley Aug 24
To a writer, a book full of words is a treasure untold,
A tapestry of their art, a story yet to unfold.
With each page turned, their imagination takes flight,
Inspiring them to create, to dream, and to write.

And for a poet, letters of love are like whispers from the heart,
Gulfed with emotions, they ignite a poetic spark.
Each word a brushstroke, painting emotions on the page,
Creating verses that resonate, like an eternal flame.

So, send these gifts to writers and poets near and far,
A book for the writer, a letter for the poet, like shooting stars.
Let them know their words have touched your soul,
And inspire them to continue sharing their art, making it whole.

May these gestures of love and appreciation,
Fuel their creative fire, their endless dedication.
For in their words, we find solace and delight,
A testament to the power of writing, shining bright.
This poem is dedicated to all writers and poets.
Their art inspires, restores and build readers.
Poetry is just not words but an art.its the ability to prose your thoughts in a imaginatively tapestry
Mary Huxley Aug 21
As she sweeps her dusty compound,
She wails, cries her heart out,
Pain has engulfed her heart,
In this tale of a lonely maiden's art.

Her tears fall like gentle rain,
Each drop a story of hidden pain.
Lost in the depths of solitude,
Her heartache echoes, misunderstood.

Through the corridors of her mind,
Whispers of love, she hopes to find.
In letters unsent, her emotions flow,
Aching for a love that will truly know.

With each stroke of her pen's embrace,
She weaves a tapestry of love and grace.
Her words, a balm to heal her soul,
A testament to the love she longs to behold.

"Tales of a Lonely Maiden" we shall call,
A poetic journey, standing tall.
Through heartache and longing, she finds her voice,
In love letters, she discovers her choice.

May this tale of a lonely maiden's plight,
Illuminate the path to love's sweet light.
For in her words, a love story unfolds,
Inscribed upon her heart, forever to be told.
Mary Huxley Aug 21
whispers,
Unending thoughts,
Painful imaginations,
Was I at fault?

Silent cries at midnight,
In the depths of darkness, my heart shattered,
A symphony of pain, only I can hear,
But amidst the anguish, I claim hope.

For brokenness doesn't define me,
It's just a page, and I'm ready to flip it,
Secure myself a new chapter,
With each tear shed, strength grows.

I may be broken but not truly lost.
Mary Huxley Aug 21
In the kitchen I stand, creating culinary delights,
Every day I cook, with all my might.
With love and passion, I whip up flavors divine,
Hoping my creations bring joy to those who dine.

While I toil away, serving on silver plates,
Her majesty and her troop demand meals with a sigh,
But deep down I dream of a day,
When my efforts are acknowledged, in some way.
Or rather I dream of a day where I'll sit and taste of the royalty.

In this realm of spices and pots and pans,
I find solace, creating dishes with my own hands.
Each ingredient tells a story, a tale to be told,
As flavors dance together, creating something bold.

Though recognition may not come my way,
I cook with love, bringing sunshine to each day.
For in the kitchen, I find my own bliss,
Creating culinary masterpieces, a pure and simple bliss.
This poem is for everyone who is underappreciated.
Majority of the time we do things out of love but the people we love don't acknowledge our efforts.
Mary Huxley Aug 21
You sent me scented flowers,
Sauvage fragrance,
A card,
Full of love.

Thinking of how you were going to lure me into your bed,
Hoping I would forget,
Forget all you did,
Just like that?

You betrayed me,
Broke my trust,
Killed my emotions,
Stabbed my back,
Even when I gave you my all,
Invested in what we called ours.

And here you are,
Sending me gifts,
Offering me reasons, that don't count,
It's funny how you think I had no options,
Assuming I'ld stay forever in your arms,
Locked and chained by your lies.

You got it all wrong,
I made my mind,
Just packed up my bags,
I'm on my way in search of peace and happiness that you couldn't give,
No one fools me twice,
Fool me once, Yes
But twice!!
Definitely not taking that.
Mary Huxley Aug 20
If
If I was to go back in time to escape this pain,I would,
My heart is aching,
I feel suffocated,
I can't breathe,
I need a stretch of grace.
Mary Huxley Aug 19
To be loved is to be known,
And maybe one day,
I'll be loved right
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