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 Dec 2016 Zhanara
martin
Back in the old days before combine harvesters came in, harvest time was much more labour intensive.  All the crops were loaded by hand on to horse-drawn carts and taken to the stack yard, where an array of often beautifully crafted stacks would be built, and thatched.

It was a very busy time of the year for the thatchers, who would work from six in the morning till nine at night for several weeks until all the stacks were safely protected from the rain. After the last stack was finished, my old boss was paid the overtime due to him. He remembered that one year it was just enough to buy himself a new pair of work boots!

One year, before handing over payment for thatching his stacks, a farmer named Mr Cutting said to Jim;  "That made me sweat to write your cheque this year."  Jim quickly replied;  "Med me sweat fust!"
There are lots of cottages built in old stack yards called Pyghtle Cottage as pyghtle, pronounced pie-cle is an old Anglo Saxon word meaning a small plot of land.
I want you to know why I rarely write or like poems here anymore.
One of my arms the left, I believe hurts much through arthritis pain.
But it does not mean that you all are not in my prayers or thoughts.
For you all are still very important and special to me sorry though.
About the absent , but keep me in your daily prayers , who knows.
What our Creator has in store for our relationships my friends.
There may yet be sharing of poetry, only time shall tell love you all.
More then you shall tell with the unconditional love from Christ our God.
Persevering though this, but shall see you and your Light on the other side.
For it through your poems and your Light within you that gives me hope.
To persevere , continuing to walk the path that Christ has set before me.
 Nov 2016 Zhanara
Dhaye Margaux
Like a flame blown by wind
Sometimes we resist 
But oftentimes we sway
We follow the flow with eyes closed
Tears roll while hearts pray
That in time we'll be back 
To where we want to stay

You left,  I was alone
I searched only to fail
But I never gave up 
Until you came back
With bigger heart and more wisdom
Like sailors we tried to sail 
While I still believe in fairytale

Days passed,  years gone by
Lines on forehead appear
Veins on shaky hands
But our hearts stay younger
With an old,  great story to tell
Our song,  nothing can replace
The best love song ever played

Our love,  our story
It's the greatest fairytale
Thanks to the holiday,  I have time to write this time.
 Nov 2016 Zhanara
AB
Blind
 Nov 2016 Zhanara
AB
When you look back on it, you think:
"Those were the good times"
"She was the best for me"
"I've never been so in love"

But we're all blind.
Blind to the fights,
Blind to the tears and curses,
Blind to the way we felt
In the worst times.

Our minds hold on to the good memories,
In our minds we see only the smiles and laughs
The trips and days spent rolling in bed.
We blind ourselves to the way
Things really went--and why they ended.
We're all blind to the bad
When we want the good times back.
We're all blind to someone who hurt us.
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