oh, how in this dark
oh, how the wave flows,
the sky black and stark-
oh, how the wind blows.

the little dogs bark
their songs full of woes,
oh, how in this dark-
oh, how the wind blows.

the autumn draws nigh -
last splash of the rose,
a withering sky-
oh, how the wind blows!

She
refuses
To reside
Inside
anyone’s
Solace
Especially
her own
She’s a
rare rose
With
the thorns
Still attached
She walks
a fine line
Somewhere
Along the line
Between pain
And fine wine
She always
found the time
And
Courage
To shine

Due to what will never be:
Dishes that wash and put themselves away,
Lessons that squirrel themselves away into my brain,
Relationships that begin and mature through no effort of my own.

Character is developing within me:
Self-discipline,
Perseverance, and
Patience with a dose of selflessness.

So even if I grumble audibly,
I am grateful to what will never be,
For the character it is forcing into me.

I think those who are in love on this era is cursed,
not that their love is delusional nor artificial
But because their manisfestation of love is perceived
by how society visualizes and defines it

We think someone genuinely love us because
they upload hundreds of photos of us
We think someone sincerely love us because
they write essay competition-worthy captions
We think someone truly love us because
they praise us at all of our selfie posts

To me, love is listening to a music
and suddenly it reminds you of them
To me, love is reading a good book
and suddenly wants them to read it as well
To me, love is when winter comes and all you ever think is whether they wear their warm clothes
To me, love is when the night comes and all you think of is how his day was

Well, then again, Chbosky once said that
"we accept the love we think we deserve"
And maybe we don't get to choose the way we love
or the way we want to be loved
Simply because we think it's the kind of love
that deserves us

@Reading... "Ink!"
As I stop to stare.
I see a title where.
I wonder what it means..
I pause from browsing to read.
I see what ink drops bleed.
I decide to click open and proceed.

I read what ink drops bleed.
The brilliant thoughts. emotions, and seeds.
Allowing my thoughts and emotions to feed.
Drip drops I'm reading..
Where black and white words are leading.
Succeeding to the end.
Cleverly where it all soon ends.
I'm left with a vivid mental picture.
As my feelings were captured.
A door I entered.
Reading gives me clarity.
Exploration, I let my fingertips reply.
I comment, like and love.
The title that caught me up above.

Such a beautiful layout, drops of ink spread all out.
This dear ones is what readings all about.
Ink drizzled inks in drops.
Spreading magic, removing doubts,
Let your fingers show you where there, leave some plops.
Let your fingertips drip drop plops.
Give some love where you are reading.
So more drips and drops will be succeeding.
For the love of ink drops please keep on reading.

SelinaSharday Rose@H.E.R

Seldom seen in the stew of Scranton skies
But there it is
a rubber band of fog  
smudged across black distance...
Myriad-multitudes
They are truly there
Each burning ball
gathered beyond my imagination
by the Moon Mother
Who scrubs the faces
of her little stars