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Arturo Hernandez Feb 2016
Saturday Morning -
It's a little cloudy,
It's a little windy.

Text: We're going to get brunch
So get ready.
Thoughts: I'm hungry! It's getting late
and we have to go to a birthday party.
Baby. hurry!

Menu: I can't have anything heavy,
Me and my girlfriend were out yesterday.
To the lady: Strawberry crepes for me, please,
I'll also have a caramel macchiato, and...
Can you add a Perrier? Thanks.

Across the table: What is this moment?
It's not butterflies, there's no knots in my stomach.
I think it's love...it's definitely happiness...
This is straight out of a movie...

No, nothing speacial happened.
It was just a cloudy Saturday morning
But there was enough Sun to hit our window,
And I just couldn't believe
I was living that moment.
Hal Loyd Denton Sep 2012
A southern blend of jasmine and magonolia waft across the grounds an in it is a mixture of tell
Tale knowing a little smoulder lies in her eyes it causes you to anticapate a well spoken word
First it has a different sound than the rest of the country it has a bluesy age to it like it has come
From the delta it took its on sweet time in doing so it is bold just with enough southen sass to
Keep you alert you can’t take for granted that which is explosive and vibrant you don’t live in
The rise and fall of such rich history and not carry a mystery and confidence that is allureing
Tressels and verandas build the tender mood of gentel beckoning that is adorded as seasoned
Fashion spell binding unabashed qaulity is seen in modest means that streams like blue bells that
Have been turned to liquid by charms power and it lays like a long lasy haze that reaches the
Far horizion with a sigh you stop and deeply meditate this creates strong thoughts that go out
From your inner self like a suden strong wind that list and goes where you no not but
refreshment Is left in its wake like an old winding road it not the arriving but the going that is
awsome it delivers Many sights like the night it holds wonders of compassion as an old man you
see in his eyes That knowing that shows care you feel a welcome embracing toucing you for
Dixie makes a Speacial brew it takes long long southern days and paitennce here is derived like
no other place you get that taste of grace speaking slowly it is a trait of the wise that came by
it not by racing To it but by a slow assurance that only grows when you give it time it gives life
a higher qaulity that Is rare in our modern world why would you take a speed boat when you can
go by paddle wheel and go to a place called Natchez eithier real or imagined gentel thoughts
invade and they are a gloroious parade with all sorts of colors and floats that portray geenteel
sentiments some of it is the feeling of loss that great and real times that held such sway are truly
gone with the wind bedeviled by a women she wears a oversized hat that frames her and in many
ways explains her the showing of a well spring of love to be bathed in her voice it trully is the
finding of that memory and grand glory of a true sothern bell walk softly in this spell created
over many treasured moments in southern rays and moonlight kissed by a protective certiny of
woman hood found in no other place cover me God in sothern primose dreams until I walk again
on the great southern soil
Hal Loyd Denton Jun 2013
A southern blend of jasmine and magonolia waft across the grounds an in it is a mixture of tell
Tale knowing a little smoulder lies in her eyes it causes you to anticapate a well spoken word
First it has a different sound than the rest of the country it has a bluesy age to it like it has come
From the delta it took its on sweet time in doing so it is bold just with enough southen sass to
Keep you alert you can’t take for granted that which is explosive and vibrant you don’t live in
The rise and fall of such rich history and not carry a mystery and confidence that is allureing
Tressels and verandas build the tender mood of gentel beckoning that is adorded as seasoned
Fashion spell binding unabashed qaulity is seen in modest means that streams like blue bells that
Have been turned to liquid by charms power and it lays like a long lasy haze that reaches the
Far horizion with a sigh you stop and deeply meditate this creates strong thoughts that go out
From your inner self like a suden strong wind that list and goes where you no not but
refreshment Is left in its wake like an old winding road it not the arriving but the going that is
awsome it delivers Many sights like the night it holds wonders of compassion as an old man you
see in his eyes That knowing that shows care you feel a welcome embracing toucing you for
Dixie makes a Speacial brew it takes long long southern days and paitennce here is derived like
no other place you get that taste of grace speaking slowly it is a trait of the wise that came by
it not by racing To it but by a slow assurance that only grows when you give it time it gives life
a higher qaulity that Is rare in our modern world why would you take a speed boat when you can
go by paddle wheel and go to a place called Natchez eithier real or imagined gentel thoughts
invade and they are a gloroious parade with all sorts of colors and floats that portray geenteel
sentiments some of it is the feeling of loss that great and real times that held such sway are truly
gone with the wind bedeviled by a women she wears a oversized hat that frames her and in many
ways explains her the showing of a well spring of love to be bathed in her voice it trully is the
finding of that memory and grand glory of a true sothern bell walk softly in this spell created
over many treasured moments in southern rays and moonlight kissed by a protective certiny of
woman hood found in no other place cover me God in sothern primose dreams until I walk again
on the great southern soil
Hal Loyd Denton Mar 2012
Southern style

A southern blend of jasmine and magonolia waft across the grounds an in it is a mixture of tell
Tale knowing a little smoulder lies in her eyes it causes you to anticapate a well spoken word

First it has a different sound than the rest of the country it has a bluesy age to it like it has come
From the delta it took its on sweet time in doing so it is bold just with enough southen sass to

Keep you alert you can’t take for granted that which is explosive and vibrant you don’t live in
The rise and fall of such rich history and not carry a mystery and confidence that is allureing

Tressels and verandas build the tender mood of gentel beconing that is adorded as seasoned
Fashion spell binding unabashed qaulity is seen in modest means that streams like blue bells that

Have been turned to liquid by charms power and it lays like a long lasy haze that reaches the
Far horizion with a sigh you stop and deeply meditate this creates strong thoughts that go out

From your inner self like a suden strong wind that list and goes where you no not but
refreshment Is left in its wake like an old winding road it not the arriving but the going that is

awsome it delivers Many sights like the night it holds wonders of compassion as an old man you
see in his eyes That knowing that shows care you feel a welcome embracing toucing you for

Dixie makes a Speacial brew it takes long long southern days and paitennce here is derived like
no other place you get that taste of grace speaking slowly it is a trait of the wise that came by  

it  not by racing To it but by a slow assurance that only grows when you give it time it gives life
a higher qaulity that Is rare in our modern world why would you take a speed boat when you can

go by paddle wheel and go to a place called Natchez eithier real or imagined gentel thoughts
invade and they are a gloroious parade with all sorts of colors and floats that portray geenteel

sentiments some of it is the feeling of loss that great and real times that held such sway are truly
gone with the wind bedeviled by a women she wears a oversized hat that frames her and in many

ways explains her the showing of a well spring of love to be bathed in her voice it trully is the
finding of that memory and grand glory of a true sothern bell walk softly in this spell created

over many treasured moments in southern rays and moonlight kissed by a protective certiny of
woman hood found in no other place  cover me God in sothern primose dreams until I walk again

on the great southern soil
Hal Loyd Denton Feb 2013
Southern Style


A southern blend of jasmine and magonolia waft across the grounds an in it is a mixture of tell
Tale knowing a little smoulder lies in her eyes it causes you to anticapate a well spoken word
First it has a different sound than the rest of the country it has a bluesy age to it like it has come
From the delta it took its on sweet time in doing so it is bold just with enough southen sass to
Keep you alert you can’t take for granted that which is explosive and vibrant you don’t live in
The rise and fall of such rich history and not carry a mystery and confidence that is allureing
Tressels and verandas build the tender mood of gentel beckoning that is adorded as seasoned
Fashion spell binding unabashed qaulity is seen in modest means that streams like blue bells that
Have been turned to liquid by charms power and it lays like a long lasy haze that reaches the
Far horizion with a sigh you stop and deeply meditate this creates strong thoughts that go out
From your inner self like a suden strong wind that list and goes where you no not but
refreshment Is left in its wake like an old winding road it not the arriving but the going that is
awsome it delivers Many sights like the night it holds wonders of compassion as an old man you
see in his eyes That knowing that shows care you feel a welcome embracing toucing you for
Dixie makes a Speacial brew it takes long long southern days and paitennce here is derived like
no other place you get that taste of grace speaking slowly it is a trait of the wise that came by
it not by racing To it but by a slow assurance that only grows when you give it time it gives life
a higher qaulity that Is rare in our modern world why would you take a speed boat when you can
go by paddle wheel and go to a place called Natchez eithier real or imagined gentel thoughts
invade and they are a gloroious parade with all sorts of colors and floats that portray geenteel
sentiments some of it is the feeling of loss that great and real times that held such sway are truly
gone with the wind bedeviled by a women she wears a oversized hat that frames her and in many
ways explains her the showing of a well spring of love to be bathed in her voice it trully is the
finding of that memory and grand glory of a true sothern bell walk softly in this spell created
over many treasured moments in southern rays and moonlight kissed by a protective certiny of
woman hood found in no other place cover me God in sothern primose dreams until I walk again
on the great southern soil
Suzan  Jan 2012
Forget your lover
Suzan Jan 2012
Because life is short:

Never waste your time loving someone who doesn't love you back.

Leave the people who are not sure yet about their feelings towards you.
                  
Don't say I'll never find someone like him/her, because there are other 6 billion people in this world are waiting to meet you. I'm sure that you will find someone so speacial among them.



Because Life is short:

Gather with old friends, and if you don't have friends then what are you waiting for?!

It is always fun to experience new things, meet new people, taste new food, watch new movies, play new video games and listen to new music.



Because Life is short:

Never forget to enjoy the nature. Watch the sunrise or the sunset, look at the moon or the stars, and take a walk in a park or a beach.

Don't forget to take pictures for every beautiful moment of your life (
Because life is short*).
Hal Loyd Denton Dec 2012
A southern blend of jasmine and magonolia waft across the grounds an in it is a mixture of tell
Tale knowing a little smoulder lies in her eyes it causes you to anticapate a well spoken word
First it has a different sound than the rest of the country it has a bluesy age to it like it has come
From the delta it took its on sweet time in doing so it is bold just with enough southen sass to
Keep you alert you can’t take for granted that which is explosive and vibrant you don’t live in
The rise and fall of such rich history and not carry a mystery and confidence that is allureing
Tressels and verandas build the tender mood of gentel beckoning that is adorded as seasoned
Fashion spell binding unabashed qaulity is seen in modest means that streams like blue bells that
Have been turned to liquid by charms power and it lays like a long lasy haze that reaches the
Far horizion with a sigh you stop and deeply meditate this creates strong thoughts that go out
From your inner self like a suden strong wind that list and goes where you no not but
refreshment Is left in its wake like an old winding road it not the arriving but the going that is
awsome it delivers Many sights like the night it holds wonders of compassion as an old man you
see in his eyes That knowing that shows care you feel a welcome embracing toucing you for
Dixie makes a Speacial brew it takes long long southern days and paitennce here is derived like
no other place you get that taste of grace speaking slowly it is a trait of the wise that came by
it not by racing To it but by a slow assurance that only grows when you give it time it gives life
a higher qaulity that Is rare in our modern world why would you take a speed boat when you can
go by paddle wheel and go to a place called Natchez eithier real or imagined gentel thoughts
invade and they are a gloroious parade with all sorts of colors and floats that portray geenteel
sentiments some of it is the feeling of loss that great and real times that held such sway are truly
gone with the wind bedeviled by a women she wears a oversized hat that frames her and in many
ways explains her the showing of a well spring of love to be bathed in her voice it trully is the
finding of that memory and grand glory of a true sothern bell walk softly in this spell created
over many treasured moments in southern rays and moonlight kissed by a protective certiny of
woman hood found in no other place cover me God in sothern primose dreams until I walk again
on the great southern soil
Looking out into the night, I see nothing sitting here on the ledge of my studio window. Or rather I see what other's might over look and view as nothing- nothing speacial. A deck that seperates twin apartment buildings, an old tree, the street to my right and the remains of a broken building and weathered fence to my left.

This is the first place I have ever called my own- neighbor's that embrace with love and friendship become a second family in their simple way. I am sad to leave.

I have been alone so long that Im not sure how to be around people, let alone let someone stay a while.

I like my simple close friends- support its taken me what seems like a life time to earn and find. I like who I am and the woman I am becoming. Its uncomplicated, and yet still tangled in this flesh is every story- every person who has ever touched it. I hold their memories, trying to always learn from what each one left behind.

Laughter, love, a voice of my own, forgiveness, bridges burnt, bridges rebuilt- responsibility for my actions and the every day learning struggle of not letting people project their feelings on to me and trying my hardest to not project my own feelings on to them...

I guess, I just hope the people in my life that do stick around- the ones that took another look, the ones who truely cared to get to know me- know that even though I **** at showing them at times - that I simply love them, in the simplest way possible.

"love the ones that treat you right- and forget the ones that dont"

Thats kind of been my moto since my birthday this year. I am not one to judge- I know I have ****** up- we all do... and for me forgiveness is the one gift that can be recieved, or given- in a world where people seem to know only how to walk away- that makes all the difference. I thought thats how I wanted to be... the one that leaves first so they never feel the bite of sadness but thats not my way, it never has been.

So I say " first love yourself, staying true to your own heart, then love the ones that treat you right and the ones that treat you wrong- learn to forgive- learn to speak less and do more. Love is an action, we can say it all day... but if we do not learn to show each other, then it means little."-me
Ayussh Srivastav Apr 2016
"Who am i?" I ask myself,
Nobody can tell me,
Nobody can teach me,
Who am i and what i need is
Something i need to figure out myself.

I finally get my answer,
I'm me .
I am what am meant to be,
I am as bad as the worst,
But thankhod as good as the best.

For me what you seee is,
What you get.
Yes you may call me naive,
But i love my life.
I am happy
And for that my freind,
I make no appologies.

I hav had some up's and downs
Super highs and some really low lows
I dont regret what i hav been through,
Cause i know i hav been blessed with my life,
And rewarded with hood freinds,family and good health.

I am not in a competition,
With anyone else,
I am in a race of my own.
I hav no desire to the game of being better,
I just aim to improve.

I am selfish,impateint and a little insecure.
I make mistakes, I'm out of controll
And sometimes i am hard to handle,
But if you cannot handle me at my worst,
Then you don't deserve my best.

I would rather be hated for who i am,
Than being loved for whom am not.

I am unique,
I am speacial.
I am who i am meant to be,
I am me :-),
And. thats all

I'll ever be.
cwhite  Jan 2015
A Rose Grew
cwhite Jan 2015
A rose grew from a crack in the ground.
Do you know how difficult that can be.?
    There was no other flower , no dirt ,nor any grass only cold concrete all around.
   A rose came up from the ground ,not watered or cared for at all .
    For a rose to grow heAlthy
and tall ,out from a crack in the ground, and not  have been stepped on!! Has to be a very speacial one !!!!
     For a rose to grow from a crack in the gound......
Jonny Angel Jul 2014
We'd walk for hours
without speaking.
The use of a speacial sign language
was what we spoke,
pointing fingers,
circling our arms,
sometimes curling fingers
to assure ourselves
everything was a-okay.

Tapping magazines
while resting in sand
& the occasional explosion,
screaming
or automatic fire
was all we ever heard
in ghostland.

— The End —