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Joanna 1d
Her story is not mine to tell, and yet I am longing to break this spell.

Waiting on the quiet, and determined to see what treasures will surface within me.

Waiting on the quiet and determined to see, what treasures will surface within me,

bringing light to a dark place within, and a bit of solace as I step out and begin,

Waiting on the quiet and determined to see what treasures will surface within me.

Bringing light to a dark place within and a bit of solace as I step out and begin,

to find the genre that will express the story of one who has endured and overcome a multitude of tests.

Her story is not mine to tell, and yet I am longing to break this spell.

Releasing a bit of creative license and taking freedom in the midst, I am aware of many things about her that I certainly will miss.

While at the same time I am at a loss as to how to unwrap this jewel so others might understand

her life has been hidden and a lot less than grand, just the same she has been faithful to family and a handful of friends,

even when those same people treated her without a thought in the end.

Her story is not mine to tell, and yet I am longing to break this spell.

I remember times that have been full of light and how she stayed the coarse, while some act like they are the abiding force.

This is about my mom, who is 92, recently someone wrote her off questioning her faith, not knowing really anything about her.  I find I need to put to pen what it stirs in me, to get over how judgmental one can be versus seeings God's heart.
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Tell me, my moondark one, how come that
our journey remained untraveled;
from mirror to mirror into eternity
our passages were left uncrossed?
For the mirage of shedding a light,
we rather chose to immerse into the outer world
than become one with each other's.
Since when were we this hollow
turning into shallow ones,
who are unfaithful to their dreams?
Tell me, that how come
that the snake is already bitting his own tail
for the circle is full now,
and I still wish to tell our never-ending story?
I feel something I've never felt before
I feel it right to my core

It steals from me without me knowing
And yet i keep going
Deep into these unknown trenches
Losing half of my soul and all of my senses

I kept at stake my heart
And lost my mind too
I chose to give you my love
I ended up dying too.
karo 3d
i have seen it in your eyes
another empty night
lonely soul hiding in the dark
so afraid of light

but you see,
i don't want to live my life in fear

i don't want to miss it all
i don't want to close my eyes
count. don't cry.
i'll hold your hand, i'll let the storm roar
we'll learn not to drown
Armed with my umbrella I ventured out into the rain.
Quickening my pace as thoughts begin racing through my brain.
Travel bag draped across my chest by my lucky shoulder strap.
I hastily folded up the seemingly old and weathered treasure map.
When I finally reached my car I fumbled desperately for my keys.
Upon entering, glancing in the mirror. Is someone following me?

Shaking off that feeling that I'm secretly being sought.
I turned the key over but the ****** engine wouldn’t start.
Exasperated I pressed my head against the steering wheel.
Just then off in the distance, I could hear foreboding tires squeal.
Set off back in the pouring rain I jogged towards my destination.
Peering quickly at my watch. Will I still make it to the station?

Wet and weary the street lamps reveal that I'm nearly there.
I turn and proceed backwards as I slowly cross the square.
Finally my footsteps echo in the station, lights flicker on the walls.
Slipping on the marble  while navigating through  poorly lit halls.
Map said locker number 78 so that’s what I hoped to find.
I think I might be going in circles, was I losing my freaking mind?

Finally on the right track, I scan the lockers, 76, 77 and 78. Now what?
I have neither key nor combination, may as well be welded shut.
Wait it’s not locked! I lift the latch and gingerly swing open the door.
An old flip phone!? I pick it up, startlingly it rings and I watch it hit the floor.
Quickly I grab it from between my feet, flip it open saying ”beam me up, Scotty!”
Couldn’t recognize the mysterious muffled voice, was the reception in here shoddy?

The person on the other end said, board the next train due.
They quickly hung up before I could ask when, why or who.
I seriously began to question the authenticity of this map.
As I followed colour coded arrows, my curiosity had me trapped.
Just then the station speaker crackled its arrival on platform three.
Proceeded by don't worry about a ticket. Were they expecting me?

I make it to the boarding strip no longer caring about getting wet.
Then glancing across the platform I begin to see a foreboding silhouette.
As the gap between us shortens I begin to see a familiar step.
When the face of this figure came into view my heart it surely leapt.
My wife was staring back at me with a bag for going on a trip.
She said I hear you’re looking for adventure as she bites her bottom lip...

There once was a poet who moved
With words as a crutch, through the days
He knew where to get a new one
To support him through life, always.

But the time came that he was lost
In a forest, hungry and tired
He couldn't find the way back home
His word of the day had expired.

And so he lay in wait till dawn
So he'd have a clearer mind
He resolved to visit the store
For an anchor that sounded kind.

Month after month, year after year
Passed slowly as he searched in vain
Until he couldn't walk a step
So then he crawled, wailing in pain.

He'd known this would happen to him
'Writer's block', a feared condition
That attacked those forged from language
There was no cure for this affliction.

And soon the town forgot their names
The woods became haunted in grief
Of poetic ghosts that long for words
In damnation without relief.
Nonsensical poem that tells a story that might be true. Let's never ever stop writing when we get stuck. We owe it to history.
Donna Oct 12
One day a giraffe called
Betty Boo woke up feeling
slightly dark blue , she

looked up at the sky
and saw the sun disappear
behind chilly clouds!

She knew it was that
time of the year when green leaves
fell off the big trees.

Betty Boo loved to
snuggled up to the tree leaves
She loved the soft warmth

of the summer sun
upon her face especially
when it’s dinner time

She could eat her food
without being seen , the trees
as tall as her gave

her some privacy.
Even the sparrows magpies
pigeons and robins

would flutter away
so Betty Boo could enjoy
her dinner , she loved

apples and pears and
grapes and peaches and she drank
the dewdrops from the

warm summer leaves , made
her eyes sparkle and her eye
lashes grow..but autumn

is now here and she
must brace herself to share her
dinner time with her

animal friends , she
loved her friends but some ate quite
messy making her

belly feel queasy.
Then she got a brainwave and
popped along to her

local big forest
shopping Mall where she bought a
few packets of soft

hankerchiefs ! That cool
autumn afternoon she showed
and taught some of her

friends table manners!
First of all her friends huffed and
puffed but they soon came

around to Betty
Boo idea, Betty Boo smiled
Autumn seems not that

bad now! Dinner time
was due and Betty Boo and
her friends ate happy

After each munch each
animal would dab the lost
stranded food away

from there faces which
made Betty Boo belly laugh
and rumble so loud

everyone looked at
her , sorry said Betty Boo!
Any suggestions to help

my giraffe belly
not rumble! And before dear
Betty Boo could

say another word
everyone laughed so much it
woke up the sleeping

sun who smiled so
wide that fallen autumn leaves
coloured the earth with

a beautiful warm
magical carpet that took
Betty Boo and her

friends for a fun day
out flying and racing through
the big happy sky
One of children stories , inspired to be read to my grandchildren one day  x so fun to write x
The moon is half. So am I
In the wintry night,
remembering lowly
the stories of lonely
of the poorest time
with no one beside
to sing a song  of season
I felt my life treason.
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