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3.9k · Feb 2015
Welcome To Society.
Welcome to society,
We hope you enjoy your stay,
And please feel free to be yourself,
As long as it's in the right way,
Make sure you love your body,
Not too much or we'll tear you down,
We'll bully you for smiling,
And then wonder why you frown,
We'll tell you that you're worthless,
That you shouldn't make a sound,
And then cry with all the others,
As you're buried in the ground,
You can fall in love with anyone,
As long as it's who we choose,
And we'll let you have your opinions,
But please shape them to our views,
Welcome to society,
We promise that we won't deceive,
And one more rule now that you're here,
There's no way you can leave.

By
Erin Hanson
3.8k · Dec 2014
Her hair
The beautiful mane that was her hair,
Fell graciously on her shoulders,
A pang of envy creeps in,
Am not blind to eye catching things.

My hand flows to my own mane,
And all I find is a poorly growing one,
It doesn’t help that it is ***** brown,
And hers is shiny black.

I wonder what she ate that I didn’t,
For her to have surprisingly beautiful feminine hair,
Contemplating,
I nearly miss the scuffle…

As it turns out,
Other **** sapiens are watching her,
Jealously I must add,
After all, I am not alone!

As if sensing our gawking looks,
She turns her head, this, and that way,
And in that moment of gratification,
The mane that was her hair falls off.

Stunned, I fall down with it,
As I hit my behind on the concrete floor,
I look for spots of blood,
But soon, a hand picks it up,

Alas, it is her hand!
She should be dead because her head,
Was cut off in a jealousy fit,
By a non-forgiving female.

Then it hits me,
It wasn’t her mane after all,
But a wig of sorts,
That is why she resembled Beyoncé,

Or was it Rihanna,
She fumbles to replace her godly look,
But now, I can breathe,
I hadn’t noticed I wasn’t,

It must have been because I realized,
The same ***** brown uncombed short hair,
That graced her clearly ashamed head,
I am not alone after all!
What I’ve Learned as a Writer
By Leo Babauta

I’ve been a professional writer since I was 17: so nearly 24 years now. I’ve made my living with words, and have written a lot of them — more than 10 million (though many of them were duplicates).

That means I’ve made a ton of errors. Lots of typos. Lots of bad writing.

Being a writer means I’ve failed a lot, and learned a few things in the process.

Now, some of you may be aspiring writers (or writers looking for inspiration from a colleague). Others might not ever want to be a writer, but you should still care about writing. I’ll tell you why: it’s an incredible tool for learning about yourself. And if you’re an effective writer, you’re an effective communicator, thinker, salesperson, businessperson, persuader.

So for anyone interested in writing, I’d love to share what I’ve learned so far.

    Write every **** day. Yes, even weekends. Yes, even when you’re busy with other crap. Each day I write a blog post, an article for Sea Change, part of my new book, or perhaps part of a novel. If I don’t have enough to write every day, I start a new writing project. I write at least 1,000 words a day, but you don’t have to write that much. Writing daily makes it a routine thing, so you never have to think about it. You just do it. It gets much easier, less intimidating. You get better at it. It’s like talking with a friend: just how you express yourself.
    Create a blog if you don’t have one. Whether or not you’re a writer, you should have a blog. Why? Because it’s a great way to reach an audience, to practice writing on a daily basis, to reflect on what you’ve been learning, to share that with others so they might benefit, to engage in a wider conversation, to learn about yourself. Anyone who wants to learn about themselves should have a blog. (Protip: Try Sett to start a blog — it’s a great way to grow an audience and community.)
    Write plainly. I think this is from Strunk & White, but it works well for me. I write in plain language, leaving the flowery stuff for others. Academic writing is the worst — it’s so stilted no one wants to read it unless they want to show others how smart they are. Technical jargon, business-speak, pretentious vocabulary, insider acronyms … none of them have any place in communicating with your fellow human beings. Only use those things if you want to hide the fact that you don’t know what you’re talking about.
    Don’t write just to hear yourself talk. Lots of people like to go on and on about themselves and their lives, but readers don’t come for that. Readers come for their own purposes. You’re reading this to get ideas for yourself as a writer, not to hear the life story of Leo the amazing writer in technicolor detail. Now, you can tell stories about yourself if they’re vividly entertaining or inspirational or really instructive. But have a purpose, and be sure you’re meeting that purpose. Don’t just ramble.
    Nearly everything can be shortened. Including this post, of course. I could probably cut 25% of this post and get away with it (I’ve already cut 25%). Go through your sentences and ask: is this necessary? What purpose does it serve? How would this read without it? And if you can, drop it. It makes your work more readable, clearer.
    Fear stops most potential writers. Most people don’t write (publicly at least) because they’re afraid their writing will ****. Well, it will. Everyone ***** at first. You don’t get better at something by sitting on your hands. **** it up, put yourself out there. You won’t have many readers at first, when you ****, but as your audience grows so will your skills.
    Read regularly for inspiration. I might write more than 1,000 words a day, but I read 10 times that. I read books and (online) magazines and blogs and more. Reading gives me ideas, shows me better ways to write, gives me access to the best teachers in my craft (amazing writers).
    Procrastination is your friend. Every writer lives daily with procrastination. If you allow yourself to feel guilty about that, then you’ll feel bad about yourself as a writer. Instead, embrace your procrastination as a friend, enjoy it … and then ask the friend to leave for awhile so you can get your work done. No friend should monopolize all your time. Get your writing done, then invite the friend back when you have free time.
    Have people expect your writing. This is another reason blogs are fantastic: if you build up an audience, you feel the pressure of their expectations. This pressure is a good thing — it keeps procrastination from taking over your life. You know the audience expects you to write, so you get off your **** and you do it. Before I had a blog, my editors were the people expecting my writing.
    Email is an excuse. We often go to check email because it feels productive (and it can be), but it’s easy to use that as a way to put off the writing. Honestly, if you close your email for a couple hours, nothing bad will happen. Close it, close everything else, and get to writing. Your email will be waiting for you when you’re done.
    Writing tools don’t matter. Most people tinker with their writing tools, trying to find the perfect system. ***** that. You can write with anything, as long as you have a keyboard. Yes, I much prefer typing to writing by hand, because I’m much faster at typing. I can get the words out closer to the speed of my thinking. But what writing program I use is irrelevant: I write in TextEdit, Sublime Text, Ommwriter, Byword, Notational Velocity, in the WordPress or Sett editor in the browser, in Google Docs. Just open up a new document and start writing.
    Jealousy is idiotic. Writers can often be insecure types — perhaps it’s a byproduct of putting your soul out in the world for all to criticize. So they’re often jealous of the success of other writers. That’s a complete waste of time and energy. It does you no good as a writer. Instead, learn from the success of others, see what’s good about you, and merge the two. Be happy for people. It’ll make you happier too.
    Writing can change lives. When I publish a post, I hope it’ll be of use to someone. But the responses I get are often incredible — people tell me how much a post or my blog in general has changed their lives. I’m blown away by this. When you put something with good intention out in the world, you have no idea what kind of impact it might have on others. It might do nothing, but it could have a profound effect on someone’s life. That’s truly powerful. That’s truly a reason to get up and write.

And one thing I’ve learned, above all, is this: the life that my writing has changed more than any other is my own. Writing for you has changed me, in ways I am only beginning to grasp. In wonderful, crazy, lift-you-off-the-ground kind of ways. And that makes me want to do it forever.
2.5k · Apr 2015
Untitled
It rained heavily - on my face
The wetness blocked his view - on my face
Skin to skin, wiping it away won't help
Oh how i hate pimples
The first thing my neighbor told me today when he walked into office was 'It has rained on your face'. Never felt sad!
2.3k · May 2015
Untitled
By Christopher Poindexter

She buried
         her ears
     into the calm
        of his heartbeat,
      and in a matter of seconds;
                fell terribly in love
            with the way
          her loneliness fell
             softly and suddenly,
                 asleep,
            in his chest.
2.1k · Mar 2015
It’s Just So Strange
“He used to love me,
and now
he’s just a stranger
who happens to know
all my secrets.”

By Clementine Von Radics
2.0k · Dec 2014
Numb
Like a flower in winder
I lay patiently waiting
For the summer sun to bring forth
Its shine of warmth
As I look to the clouds above
I engulf myself into the slightest
Hope emanating from the
Ever gloomy surface
And let myself forget
My numb self
Once upon a time, I had the zeal of a thief with a mission, I knew what I wanted, I strived to get it, and failure did little to deter me. My heart pounded blood with fire, it acted with a vengeance filling me up with a strong desire, a hope, a future that all will be well, with time.

Time goes by quickly enough. With 24 years on my back, I am still in the same place as I was ten years ago but with less vigor. A state of hopelessness has made a nest in my crib, time seems to drag and I wait for my next big dream to come crumbling down once again.

The God I worshipped before has changed too, I have a new one, one who is more loving and has more enemies, the only problem is, the enemy is winning this fight of souls. I am down the drain of waste, slowly filling my belly with dirt and too distracted with the failure in front of me to spit out the filth from my lips.

I wake each day with a fresh brain, waiting to be filled up but soon afterwards, its filled with past failures, past pains, the past, the past, the past! Now, I know what you are thinking, move on, let the past be the past. I know all about moving on, I moved on from my ex, it took me more than a year but I am glad I let the ******* go (not that he is that bad!) but how can I move on from this? Every day is a reminder of the past, thing is, I don’t have to live in my past to be influenced by it, many times, the past is indeed my present.

The past has a bag of failures packed up to the brim, my present too is always marked with failure after failure. How can I make you understand the state of hopelessness that is eating at me? No, I am no saint, I am no good at many a thing, I wish I was also as good in getting over this, only problem is that it feels like a thousand galaxies have been set on my shoulders for me to carry.

This is what hopelessness means, I have a past that is too strong for me, a present that is dim each day and a future that is so bleak that looking at it only makes me sink deeper.
1.8k · Feb 2015
Do not fall in love
Do not fall in love with people like me.  I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.

By Caitlin Siehl,

Read more at http://quotesberry.com/post/111562356007/when-i-leave-you-will-finally-understand-why-storms#Ek7vYV2HDA5XT­Z4M.99
1.4k · Jan 2015
Perfect imperfection
This is me, raw to the bone
Dripping with lines of stretch marks
Infested with pounds of fat
Beneath the layer that’s called skin

This is me, raw to the bone
With a gaping wound in yellow teeth
Covered by the dark flesh
Of equally full fat well pursed lips

This is me, raw to the bone
Draped in cheap silk and fake hair
If your eyes go as far as the nose
You will miss the perfect imperfection
That lies beneath
1.4k · May 2015
Untitled
By Tyler Knott Gregson

How quickly jealous
i become
of the wind
when it,
and not i,
gets the privilege
of properly
messing up
your hair
1.3k · Mar 2015
Gold digger
Don't say you don't get your money's worth,
Her hips know how to rhyme with yours,
When you summon her my lord,
Its nothing much
only something for something love.
thinking out loud
1.3k · Dec 2014
Untitled
Her inner strength spread forth,
Winged with affection,
She taught others of its importance,
It wasn’t that she was made of stone,
God, no!
She was flesh and blood.

Fragility echoed in the walls of her heart,
Her never wavering eyes,
Hid the ingress to her troubled soul,
A guiding light she was,
Great a thinker she was taken to be,
Yet only one with minuscule eyes,
Could one see the gravity of her pain.

Nothing seemed to be in her favor,
Always contemplating on how to make it,
Fear gripped every bone in her,
Disappointment had been her colleague,
Nursing her into betrayals and discomfort,
The waterfalls of her tears had wet her bed,
In the secrecy of her capsule

Yet, her standing remained an inspiration,
Her pain was the light of others,
She knew all too well,
Her fragility had no place,
And hoped,
That the strength seen by others,
Would one day make its way,
Into her weakened heart.
Who we are to the rest of the world is different from what we are inside our hearts. This poem is a dedication to all strong people, men and women although specifically to those strong ladies who know how to hold on even when everything around is falling, mothers who remain pillars for their children even when they cry everyday in their beds, wives who remain the backbone of their husbands when all they want is to be shielded from the pain they have.
1.1k · Feb 2015
Untitled
I loved her
not for the way
she danced
with my angels
but for the way
the sound of
her name
could silence my
demons.

By Christopher Poindexter
999 · Apr 2015
Camouflage
Meandering eyes never
fell on such a sight as
when they saw the eyes of a wall.

Hidden beneath the shrubs
endowed naturally as leaves
as artificial as the wall painting she lay, asleep
unmoving despite the cold beating on her feather light clothes.

Nothing could betray her perfect camouflage
till her bright white eyes flew open
and gave way to the slight movement
that turned the meandering eyes
to the curved wall that was her voluptuous body.

Startled sighs that escaped the lips
could never measure to
the sight of a wall come to life
and the shrubs become an
unwelcome choice of a bed
or the stone a pillow.
Was in a taxi going to work and as i stared absentmindedly at the wall, a homeless woman laying there in cold on that rainy morning, turned ever so lightly. It seemed i was not the only one in the taxi who was shocked when we realised a human being was laying out there, so unguarded, so unprotected.
948 · Dec 2014
Listen!
Don’t listen to the words coming out of my mouth
They are a rehearsal in the mirror everyday
Instead
Listen to the soft whispers of my heart
Telling you ever silent words
In my anger
My lips tell of frustration
In my happiness
My hands tell of a tender love in my soul
In my pain
My eyes tell of hurt
In my distress
My tears plead with you
To please listen
For the burden weighing on my shoulders
Is becoming too heavy to carry
Because you are not listening!
941 · Mar 2015
Self destructive – Anger
The murderer in me is suffocating,
The strength in his grip is overwhelming,
There is an urgency to his cries.

His whispers are disguised poison,
Sweet to the tongue but bitter to the soul,
He knocks ever so lightly,
But just enough to alarm calm me.

I have no where to hide,
Outward is too bare to the world,
Yet inward is too crowded for my own liking,
Where shall I hide you,
If not bury you deeper?

If everyone has a problem with you,
Then you are the problem, they say,
I wish he understood that.
Feeling angry, really, really angry.
904 · Apr 2015
sad
sad
He didn't bother calling
Or asking how i am
She didn't try to make me smile
Just gave me a little food to eat
They didn't care that my face was bruised
They hounded me with more work
It didn't take a break
It pounced on me
With these pains, my hope is gone to the wind
Crying won't make it better too
Just resilience and hope
That tomorrow my face will see a semblance
Of a smile.
872 · Apr 2015
Untitled
We all have crowded bookshelves in our heads crammed with texts for every person we know.
They knock about in our skulls, falling off the shelves.
We refer to them again and again, wearing the pages thin.
When you read me wrong, everything that follows is askew.

By Dahlia Grossman-Heinze

Read more at http://the-toast.net/2015/03/05/right-words-say/#HtPOpT5X35dJrL9Z.99
770 · Feb 2015
Untitled
If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, dried and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.

By Sarah Quil
766 · Dec 2014
Simplicity - simple me
Suns and moons of years past,
Have taught me the simplicity,
In is, was, here, now, today, tomorrow,

Time spent trying to be better,
Only made me discover that,
Tomorrow, today, now, here, was, is in place,

Reading never made it easier too,
I guess complexity only helps,
In is, was, here, now today, tomorrow,

Making you understand is what i strive,
Each line written shades light on,
Tomorrow, today, now, here, was, is,

Now i pen off feeling proud,
That maybe today simple me,
Is, was, here, now, today, tomorrow.
722 · Dec 2014
Dear daddy
It is funny how when I say daddy
a smile often spreads forth on my lips
it may be because of the ‘dy’ at the end of daddy
or because I loved you so much

Smiling always reminds me
of how many times yours beckoned to me
you lit up the room with your jokes
and turned a house into a home

Home is no longer home without you
you have been gone too long now
you should be a memory to us now
but you remain the backbone of what you left

You held us close with your loving arms
simplicity was your best suit
yet love was your weakness
for you granted it to us without restraint

The simplicity in our home
is now lost to an empty place
a place you once filled in our hearts
dear daddy.
You have been through this before, the very same old song is playing and you are dancing the same moves

The same words have been spoken, you are still reacting the same old way

Yes you have been through this before, and nothing has changed.

They looked at your helplessness, they saw the waters gather speed in your eyes making ready

As they rushed down your cheeks, they looked away and washed then not away

Naked as you were, no one dared to cover you up.

Words were spoken, promises made, hope given, faith instilled, a better tomorrow promised

Yes, they heard them, they watched as you delved deeper into their web of lies

And smiled at their expertise in the ways of the tongue.

Showers of love they seemed, yet only a tenderizer for the next hard landing

Never softer, nor sweeter, ever damaging, heart breaking

But

You have been through this before, the very same old song is playing and you are dancing the same moves.
Trying my hand at better poetry, comments please.
662 · Jan 2015
Set her free
Chains of an underling
Have you bound round her neck
Telling her she cannot rise far
Beyond her nose,

A crown of thorns
Have you worn on her head
If she dared reach beyond the
Height there of

Like a dog
Have you tamed her ‘unbecoming ways’
Listening obediently to thy command my lord
Oh no sir

I dare say
A beggar shall she be no more
She will birth you and feed you alright
So shall she reach beyond you
Teach you and protect you
Then clothe and educate you

Set her free I say,
Let her wisdom feed you glutton
Let the power of her words nurse thee nation
Let her wings fly free coward
Set her free, I say!
This is for all women, you need to fly high.
By Erma Bombeck

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and
worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the
fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

To continue reading - http://obscuritythought.blogspot.com/2015/04/if-i-had-my-life-to-live-over.html
573 · Aug 2015
Today
I will take pride in thee
look upon you with tender eyes
smile upon the beauty you bestow
look forward to your visits daily
wait upon you like a hand maid
be thine all in all as a wife.

When you shall take your leave
i will stare at your retreating back
but not shed a single tear or let sadness
weave its cloak round about me
for i know, yea i believe in your departing promise
that i shall behold thine face once again
so wait i will
like a child to his father's promise.
571 · Jan 2015
Untitled
I am the handmaid,
You are the master,

The price of your swimsuit,
Is twice the price of my winter clothing,

Your well-manicured hands,
Tire not of rubbing the dirt off my face,

Your eyes pleading,
I let myself love you back.
566 · Nov 2015
This life
Why is it so complicated?
this life?
Why can’t everybody be the same?
happy?

I often hear of strange words
Words like hate, jealousy, war
I hear they mean bad feelings
Mum said we should never play with other children
That their parents hate us, that they are jealous
I don’t know why she said that
Because they laugh with us
They play with us
They give us some of their good food.

Sometimes I wonder why
Mummy and daddy don’t be free and happy
Just like me and junior
Daddy says we are Christians
We follow Christ
But Christ says love your neighbor
As you love yourself
Is that love?
Inspired by one of my favorite poems, First day at school by Roger McGough
545 · Jul 2015
Untitled
This maze that is called life
has its claws clenched deep inside flesh
that i have no where to twist and turn
or whom to lean on and love

I am just a head on shoulders
feeling nothing but doom and nursing
nothing but tragedy after tragedy
oh how it can play tricks on you
sometimes

Only yesterday did i have
the whole world in my hands
yet only crumbs do i own now
i guess that is the maze that is called
life.
533 · Mar 2015
I will be there
When darkness falls around you
and hopelessness takes root
when all seems dead and gone
i will be like snowflakes on a hot summer day
i will be your knight in shining armor
i will be your savior
and you will be my Cinderella
through it all
i will be there
Sometimes, it is good to remind those you care about that you will be there for them, no matter what.
522 · Mar 2015
I am right
I can't be ALL bad
SOME part of me is good
if not, the most part.

Thing is, you DON'T know me
if you did, you would see
how precious i am.

The problem is not with me
but with you, all the time
i am RIGHT.

STOP judging me for what you don't know
all you have to do is understand me
i am never wrong.

How i wish you would just to know the real me.
Feelings of guilt
504 · Dec 2015
Untitled
There is a shadow looming near
staring me straight in the eyes
unflinching
its darkness pitch
it must be the devil's friend

Its contours stretch far and wide
spreading its arms right about me
engulfing me in its cold embrace
taking me for a ride
one that i cannot run away from

Once strong, now i remain weak
determination is nothing but a wish
work is everything but fulfilling
contentment if far long gone
the shadow is right here.....

with me.
503 · Feb 2015
Oh, the pain
If only it were easy
To really let go and forget
The promises you made so heartily
Back when your heart beat with mine
And love flowed visibly
From your eyes.

Time heals all wounds
I know so well the sound of my advice
But taking it now when my heart aches
Would be a lie i will be telling myself
For all i feel is the emptiness
Of not having you in my life.

I want not to feel
To write naughty poems
But how can i smile outward
When i am seething inward
Of the pain of not being one with you
Anymore.
478 · Mar 2015
Dead and gone
A young body
with the eyes of an adult
pristine arms
with adulterated hands
so long innocence
so long childhood

all he will ever know
is a life of work, work and more work
speak to his soul
and you will find an aged man
so long innocence
*so long childhood
472 · Apr 2015
Size me up
Stir up my emotions,
Iron them up out,
Make me believe
That it doesn't matter,
To be undecided,
Whether too small or too big,
Let me fit without a glitch all the same.
470 · Apr 2015
I am afraid
Of the beautiful honour
That is motherhood;
The intense emotion of conceiving;
The lengthy lactation; and,
The labour pangs.

I fear what may happen.
Will the baby live to term
Or termination?
What will my reaction be if....
If my womb gave way before it is grown?

I am afraid
Of the minute changes; yet blissful,
But unknown.

Will my baby make me grandchildren
In this world?

I am afraid.

Agrace ‪#‎feelingforAfrica‬
463 · Mar 2015
Yes i do
Its not always easy to tell you i love you,
but yes, i do

its not always easy to reach out to you,
but i would love to try
and yes, i do

its not always easy to say i am sorry,
the words never come out right
try as i might
at least i try
am sorry
446 · Mar 2015
Untitled
I aimed for the sky
and got myself to the moon
still,
i can't help but wish
you were my shooting star
so that you would quench
this burning desire
to have you all to myself
By Ron Koertge

Give up sitting dutifully at your desk. Leave
your house or apartment. Go out into the world.

It's all right to carry a notebook but a cheap
one is best, with pages the color of weak tea
and on the front a kitten or a space ship.

Avoid any enclosed space where more than
three people are wearing turtlenecks. Beware
any snow-covered chalet with deer tracks
across the muffled tennis courts.

Not surprisingly, libraries are a good place to write.
And the perfect place in a library is near an aisle
where a child a year or two old is playing as his
mother browses the ranks of the dead.

Often he will pull books from the bottom shelf.
The title, the author's name, the brooding photo
on the flap mean nothing. Red book on black, gray
book on brown, he builds a tower. And the higher
it gets, the wider he grins.

You who asked for advice, listen: When the tower
falls, be like that child. Laugh so loud everybody
in the world frowns and says, "Shhhh."

Then start again.

from Fever, 2006
Red Hen Press
444 · Mar 2015
Untitled
Have you ever been attacked for who you are?
I have been told over and over again that i am a good person and i never believed them
But now that they say i am a bad person,
And i can't stand it.

I am trying to get the best way to tell you how i feel
My words are not exceptional like Shakespeare's
They won't stick on your mind for generations to come
They are simple words of pain, real words of hurt

How can i move forward from this, this smoking environment round me
Is suffocating me, drawing me nearer to the grave
I wish you would remember something else about me
Other than this downtrodden vision of **ME
Being blamed for something unfairly after one person told many people and the many people informed my superiors. Now, i am left to be blamed, judged and attacked, its not a good feeling.
421 · Dec 2014
Untitled
The air
Around her spoke
Of superiority of character
Yet her eyes betrayed the blindness
Of love.
420 · May 2015
Untitled
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.

Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?

Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict "to begin it"
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
"There will be nonsense in it!" --
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.

Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast --
And half believe it true.

And ever, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by,
"The rest next time --" "It is next time!"
The happy voices cry.

Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out --
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.

Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
In Meinory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's wither'd wreath of flowers
Pluck'd in a far-off land.

Alice's adventuers in wonderland
415 · Mar 2015
Untitled
Let me slip
Into oblivion
and be
satisfied that
pain exists
no longer
378 · Feb 2015
Quote
“We are at our very best, and we are happiest, when we are fully engaged in work we enjoy on the journey toward the goal we’ve established for ourselves. It gives meaning to our time off and comfort to our sleep. It makes everything else in life so wonderful, so worthwhile.” – Earl Nightingale
367 · Feb 2015
A woman should have
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..

enough money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own,
even if she never wants to or needs to…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..

something perfect to wear if the employer, or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..

a youth she’s content to leave behind….

a past juicy enough that she’s looking forward to
retelling it in her old age….

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …..

a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .

one friend who always makes her laugh… and one who lets her cry…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ….

a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …

eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal, that will make her guests feel honored…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …

a feeling of control over her destiny.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

how to fall in love without losing herself.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

when to try harder… and WHEN TO WALK AWAY…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

that she can’t change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

that her childhood may not have been perfect…but its over…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

what she would and wouldn’t do for love or more…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

how to live alone… even if she doesn’t like it…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..

whom she can trust,
whom she can’t,
and why she shouldn’t take it personally…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

where to go…
be it to her best friend’s kitchen table…
or a charming inn in the woods…
when her soul needs soothing…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…

what she can and can’t accomplish in a day…
a month…and a year…

By
Pamela Redmond Satran
360 · Jan 2015
Tell me
Tell me that feeling blue in this our love is okay
That spending less time together is a sign of maturity
Tell me that missing you is enough
That telling you over and over again that I love you
Is just what you need
Tell me again that her telling you she loves you
Was just smoke in the wind to your ears
That my sister loving you won’t peel away
This our time tested love.
343 · Dec 2014
A desperate plea
Writhing with anxiety,
He hesitantly walked ahead,
He equivocally looked beyond his nose,
Whimpers of tired sobs,
Followed him to the door,
‘Please, please,’ her tired voice begged,
‘Do everything you can’

Everything I have done thus far,
He thought,
Is the best I can,
But still,
He never blocked the ray of hope,
In her path of darkness,
As he moved to and fro,

Time flew by fast,
Any glimpse of a break through,
Uneventfully shut in his face,
With nowhere to turn,
He remembered gentle words seldom heard,
As in entranced, he listened carefully,
Guilt of sins past imbued him,
But strutted on with faith,

He desperately made his plea,
‘If you will do just this one thing for me,
I promise…’
But now,
Everything is back to ‘normal’,
The desperate times past,
Promises made broken, again.
Many of us often turn to God and pray fervently when we have problems. This poem was inspired by a friend who made a desperate prayer when he had a serious errand to run for his wife. He had made the prayer a day before but as he spoke to us, he openly said he never remembered any single word he uttered in that desperate time.

Notes on how i can improve this poem are welcome. Thank you.
339 · Feb 2015
Untitled
We are all made in different skins
From the soft purple for tenderhearted ones
To hero like black ones
Yet under one umbrella we all gather
Living for today and hoping for tomorrow
Falling off the face of the earth
And forgotten when our bodies decompose
What more then should we strive for
Other than the ***** of our father, our God
Who in him is our daily strife
Life and death.
339 · Dec 2014
Untitled
though my paths are crooked
though my world is desolate
despite being a little dreamless
or maybe close to being penniless
my vision is not blurred
my eyes remain trained ahead
and the world is conspiring beautifully
that i may reach there
337 · Jul 2015
The future
Let the future
decide if it is worth fighting
for today.
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