I have grown to be a beautiful powerful woman
filled with gifts.
One you could never see.
Perhaps you can see it from the other side
now that your in spirit form.
I have learned to love myself and see...
I'm sacred, smart, and beautiful
To see I am dependent on my inner voice
of loving script,
NO ONE ELSES.
I love you and you rock
as a gifted poet,
as the wind picks up
and I feel my mothers hug from beyond.
inspired by eli Thanks
My mother would never take the time to read my poetry or give me supportive words but alas she played a role to help me grow
so I forgive.
Well where would I pertain to start...
it wasn't at the beginning rather the end.
For we were going out, I put on my already
ironed jeans, ironed jeans? yes I do that.
But moving on from my habits, we move on
to another of her perception of time.
those fateful words of;
"I'll be ready in five minutes"
What isn't told, what hides beneath these words
are as follows!
1. Five minutes to find a pair of shoes!
the minutes start again with each disposed off
as what is time without the right footwear...
2. Five minutes to pick a dress to try it on,
if it doesn't match ^No1!!^ then as before
five minutes graces her thoughts again.
3. Hair she has so much,
but if it doesn't match the occasion,
I had to buy a break proof mirror, she said the
brush slipped, but I have other thoughts.
4. Make up? why she is beautiful without this on.
But for some a cover from insecurities.
each layer having to match the above and so on.
Well, I had waited patiently?
but five minutes collected into infinity.
I cracked open a beer, had one or two.
then fell asleep on the sofa even the dog
looked at the clock and muffled into slumber.
She came down, looking like I had seen her
on our first date. The time wasted wasn't at all,
those moments now melted away. She has no
construct of time, but when I see her like this,
it doesn't matter how much time she takes.
you are tethered here now
by just a few threads
that flex and strain with
each laboured breathe
soon the last of them
will fray and break
and you will be free
to float away
to see and enjoy
by that, that drew
you down into the dark
you will fly to the heavens
like a bird, small against
the blue, blue sky
or perhaps more akin
to a dandelion seed
be taken by a gust of wind
to a new environ
mayhaps, a cliff top
by a shining blue sea
and there to take seed
and grow again and again
whilst the sea kisses the sand
And now she is...rest in peace... my mothet died peacefully as dawn broke on the 6th of April...
You helped me heft
You shared in all my cares
You also heavy laden
Your own loads in which to bear.
You took me through
Through the stormy seas
Of my misunderstandings
You helped me to ease
Through thick & thin
A stalwart friend so true
I could n'er find another
More trustworthy than you!
As a supporter you excell
There to lend a hand
You garner no great glory
As by my side you stand.
You're the lifter of my arms
A background tune that sings
You're an inspiring backdrop
The wind beneith my wings.
Please know that I have
For you are from above
I will ever cherish you...
You'll always be LOVED.
To a very dear friend who has always helped me to understand the Bible and its correlation to every aspect of life. She has been a wonderful support in every way. I believe the armor bearer is more important than the warrior. This lady has a TRUE servant's heart... she is dearly LOVED!
His cruel nature,
Once encaged her feelings.
And turned her into a timid bird,
Ready to cut off it's wings.
Ready to give up all her dreams,
Just to pursue his dreams.
Now after a year,
They're so close to each other,
That their hearts fly together everywhere.
Because of her patience, and endurance,
She is now the one and only queen of his heart.
The warmth of her love melted his heart the day she started fighting with all the fears that once consumed him and all his insecurities
And made her, the only love of his life.
No one could tame him,
Because nobody ever loved him
The way she did.
O' Widow of the Worlds, embrace thy darkest hours.
Breathe evenings cold perfume, recall woods and flowers.
Glide proud amongst thy memories and foggy dreams,
pause pensive, gently pick a black rose for thy hair.
Give tears, settle 'pon thy fate as destiny deems,
walk through the mist and dissolve into the air.
At peace 'pon thy darkest hours,
sigh alone, a door to close,
sadness sleeps for all eternity,
the silent death of a rose.
© Pagan Paul (10/10/17)
Final poem of 'Rose' trilogy