What  a  strange  day.
This  morning  was  dark,
damp  and  foggy.
A  real  winter  morn.

This  afternoon  it's  cleared  up.
The  sun  has  come  out.
And  it's  quite  springlike.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Trying to resist
The chains suppressing me
Pulling tight, steel bites
Preventing the instinct to flee

So I fight
Throw a punch, skip right
Not dodging enough hits
Peer pressure, my death?
Well, it fits

You were there
from day one  
You are my father
I am your son

First taught me to walk.
Then taught me to run
You are my father
I am your son

Fished with me
in the hot summer sun
You are my father
I am your son

Gladly accepted
each girls heart I won
You are my father
I am your son

Taught me to drive
that stick it was fun
You are my father
I am your son

Saw me off to the army
my adult life begun
You are my father
I am your son

Now I am married
perhaps a grandson
You are my father
I am your son

The angels came calling
your time here is done
You are my father
I am your son

I really miss you
this grief weighs a ton
You are my father
I am your son

You'll always be my father
now I've become one
I am the father
I have a son

My heart is like the broken glass
               there lying on the floor
        It shattered a few thousand times
           behind quick slamming doors

                 The ****** shards
                   that lay unbroken
       are all of that's left of love unspoken
          To you I give this simple token
               a piece of me in ****** ink

      This piece of glass I entrust to thee
        This little glass it holds the key
       Beachy glass washed from a sea
         from my waiting ...wanting tears

              I've tried to love though
                       it's been vain
                   My heart is fragile...
                       single paned
          I'll try to love...again with you
          liquid sand from praying pew

        I know my heart's a fragile mess
          my love for you I must confess
         the edges sharp my hands caress
             to make us whole again

          An hourglass I'll shape in time
         and strip away the ****** grime
       My heart is here to love once more
     A green glass piece lost on your Shores

        I am here...if you decide to try
   rebuild this heart from tears it cries
        I wonder in its silence sighs
             In you I feel at home

      you know I'll hold your heart safe too
        curing resin my hands will glue
        repairs rebuilding love anew
      a fracture fixed by love that's true

       build a bond that won't be broken
                  a smooth soft heart
                       your loving token.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.