My mother grew up poor and strong,
Wild and kind,
Unsteady and prime.
Black curls and brick house,
Stealing for her supper.

My mother can push and fight,
Claw and brawl,
My mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

She stands upon walls,
Falls,
then finds her footing.
Because my mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

At times she's insecure and unsure,
Unknowing that
My mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

She pushes, bows, cares and bares,
She can endure all things, conquer all things and renew all things,
For my mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing
Anne 3d
Many acts of generous offerings
Tender words of helpless mutterings
Expressing in words
Show of kindness
Didn't dismiss of a warm compassion
All have returned of pure compliance
''All about me'' journal
you say that the zodiac means nothing, but you have not seen the toxinity of two star signs that should have never collided.
a toxic relationship. it begins with their happiness depending on you. your smile fueling their existance into the night and hopes of seeing it in the morning. their aura consisting of depths of neverending black, you drown myself in. their black swepted hair matching perfectly with their blues eyes of sadness. it continues with your sadness matching yours, two people barely hanging on to the world. you find yourself wondering why you are wasting your time with a 12% chance.
something different
I sit by a pool
That is kissed by lovely light
Singing bird now flies
Back to my haikus! ^-^
Lyn xxx
I walk every day like in the desert
I do not know what for
for whom and for what purpose
my existence

I walk every day like in the desert
in search of some answer
in search of some kind of truth
which in fact is not present

I walk every day like in the desert
bright sun beats me
cold of Russian frosts kill
but I'm going and I don't know why


02.04.18
RBWhite Jul 5
To thank the blossoming valleys of your birth,
To cherish wisdom in lonely nights,
Everytime a petal falls,it turns pink and tender,
It remains yours and pure,
Bursting above the seas and winds,
Now after many sunny whispers a lovely glow shines through the night sky,
Some wanderers think of this as a way to their Kingdom.
Lyn-Purcell Jul 5
She glides through this life
gowned and glowing in
white

In her hand, a candle with
a golden flame that never
dies

And she spotted me on the
beach with a branch in my
hand

As I was drawing my scars
in the sea-kissed sands. It
was

then that I felt behind me
a tender heat, so I turned
and

met her gaze. The scars I
drew in the sand healed.
Under

my feet, a path of glass
marble that when kissed
by
the sunlight, became a
rainbow. She beckoned
me

to follow her to which I
did and we ventured through
sky, land and sea

She spoke so gently
She smiled so kindly
Her words had so much
worth with such little
cost

My sorrowed heart was halved
My joy seemed to double
And then she said she had
to go.

But she smiled and said that
she was never far behind,
and if ever in doubt, I should
look to the sky

I'll see her star and feel her gaze
And I would always end up with
a smiling face.

Handing me her undead candle,
she floated away and I would never
forget that day.

She saw me a someone who
could heal and touch many lives
And like the talent in me,
it will never die

Now watching the dying sun,
by the beach, I turn my face
to the empty seat.

No, I shouldn't say empty.
So it is sweet to smile and
meet the angel that burns
with a kind heat
This poem is a tribute to Sue, who wrote a delightful kind poem for me called the 'angel with a broken wing'. I really cried at how beautiful it was so here is my poem to her to thank her.
Please follow Sue, she writes so elegantly and she's such a friendly soul too!
Here is the link to her page: https://hellopoetry.com/u712779/
Thank you so much, Sue!
Have a blessed day, everyone!
Lyn xxx
skyler Jun 19
to the boy
who is learning
my favorite song
on piano
just to make
me smile
thank you
for reminding me
that some boys are sweet
like the melodies you play
and not all
are nails on chalkboard

s.s
cait-cait Jun 18
im there when you want to
rip out your
hair and scream ,

knees on the floor, your face
in my hands  .
                          .

there seems to be glass everywhere
you look
and
you're crying ,

you can see it.

i dont know who told you i was dangerous --
but

i can only be so kind .
who has ever thought about how i feel?

when i was little my mom had this vanity that was covered in mirrors and then draped with a cloth, and i have memories of trying to pull the cloth off to see the full thing, and also memories of being on her bed and being able to see myself where there were slits.
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