I'm so lucky to have a home video of my Wedding to Helen can watch whenever I wish Helen had this Incredible **** voice and a very naughty but nice laugh I'm happy through the Wedding video I can hear that Incredible voice and can see her laughing and joking Something photos can't do but to be able to see her organising taking control everybody would say she was like their own mother I used to call her mother of all mothers such a good heart she had help anyone so much was her kindness So I am a lucky man to known and loved such a beautiful kind lady to whom I shared twenty wonderful years
Such a lucky man I was to have known and loved such a beautiful kind hearted lady for twenty years
I have felt the weight of so many feelings pile up inside me over the years The top layer of myself is composed of a loss for words I fell in love once and back then it was as if the words would never stop flowing out of me Poem after poem pouring out of my soul about a girl who i ended up falling so completely out of love with Ever since then i have looked at my notebooks, stray post it notes once equipped for a passionate flurry of words to be smattered onto and then neatly folded into an origami heart I’ve looked at them and felt only loss Falling out of love overtook me as slowly as falling in Shy moments persistently becoming noticed until i realized that I wasnt who i used to be when this all began And honestly? I dont know who i am anymore I really don’t And perhaps that’s why i havent found the words yet These past few months i have been urging myself to write, write, write, You know you will want to remember what this is like so write But i looked inside myself and all i saw was a confusing blob, a living person with questions for organs and i didn’t know what to do What had become of who i was And so i pushed writing away Words that so easily poured from my fingertips, trapped behind a self made dam I felt silly I feel silly How to i begin to describe that i no longer recognize myself That the image of who i was A scared angry depressed teenager has been smeared at, scratched away with rough greedy hands And i am left looking at an empty husk of an adult A living breathing ‘what could be’ And i am lost And i dont know I must really admit, i know nothing- at all.
i havent written a poem in months. I kept stressing and worrying so i decided to just, let my brain do what it wants. And this is wat it did.
My dad was a bus driver when I was a kid always a thrill when he'd take me out In his bus got me away from the house for the day Away from my abusive mother that dad was totally aware of I would sit behind the driver seat to watch my dad driving his bus He was well liked by all passengers for dad was so kind and polite and helpful to all He would drive through all those quaint little villages to pick up all the regular passengers I was so proud of him He was my dad and I missed so much when he passed away and at his funeral I spoke and said If I had a chance of one more day I'd wish for one more ride on a bus with him such a wonderful father he was
My dad was a bus driver he was so well liked by all his passengers always a pleasure he'd take me out with him for the day
Octagon OF seven sides Unseen gate OF one where men enter in the name OF and thus beyond The point OF no return and kin Wait in vain because OF there None could see the future and None will ever no and all named OF died in the glory OF what was never received
In the name OF peace power greed the list is to long to mention Somewhere somebody Is Going to die die By the name OF Octagon of seven referred To the 7 continents
To look upon my life sometimes with little shame didn't always make the most of what I probably could have I suppose my biggest regret I didn't find my new found love of poetry sooner In life Through being Involved In poetry earlier I believe my my life could have been so much better more enriched through the beauty of reading and writing poetry Being able to express so much with the power of words to encourage and help other's to find the beauty of words
A poem about poetry and how wish I had discovered It sooner In life
Why does the Moon seem angry tonight? All red she has gotten. A moment ago she was pale and serene, As the poets describe her to be. But now she resembles Mars's twin, Only crescent not quite round like him. The sky is a blend of black and blue, Not many stars in sight. Is it why Selene is unhappy, 'Cause the stars were late and sloppy? Or did she quarrel with the Sun at dusk, 'Bout solstices and equinox? Or maybe she is annoyed at the clouds, Who her pretty face did shroud. Can it be that she is cold? 'Tis after all a December's night. Or it might be that she is blushing, Thinking of meeting her sleeping Valentine. Oh no it can't that, For she surely seems bitter. Is it something I've done? If only I knew what, I could make amends. But I pray that ain't the cause.