"aplenty" poems
Oh why am I still hurting
Isn't it past the hour of pain?
Hell is only temporary
Til He rids you of all shame!
I stepped into Your room
Try to relive Your relieving
To rid me of my gloom
Try to receive Your revealing
Jealous the jealous God
I seek restless for Your love
Mine eyes grow tired and weary
Jealous the jealous God
Jealous the jealous God
I drown helpless in Your flood
I thirst scarcely for Your mercy
Jealous the jealous God
Why is the world so empty
Yet weighs millions o' pounds?
Where lies pile up aplenty
To keep the lost from being found
Why is deception
Like form of education
Setting false foundations
Corrupting His creation
As lies disguise damnation
For a paper-clad salvation
Sending ill vibrations
To the youth of all the nations
I wonder how much am I missing, o God?
A wonder even the universe cannot contain
Translated and made compatible in a human's brain.
Soulless animals kiss the land
In honor of the One
Who was, who is and is to come
Who dares their doubt expand
In disbelief blot out the sun
Jealous the jealous God
Soulless animals indeed we have become
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
*A coarse, yellow coat with dark spot aplenty
Lean as a greyhound with limb long and lengthy,
Faster than hare from a cold standing start
Impossibly glimpsed in tall grasses that part.
Crystaline jewels in two huge hazel eyes
With the svelt of a feline’s cold killing surprise,
Explosively quick with an elegant gait
And a murderous jaw full of canines that wait
For a fleeing gazelle or a springbok at speed
Then a launch that would emulate bullet, when freed.
Incredibly smooth with a fast loping stride
That would tax any racehorse an envious ride,
Snapping manouvers to left and to right
That mirror a quarry’s evasions of flight.
A blur in a frantic explosion of dust
Then the life blood erupts, splashing red as the rust.
Heaving great flanks after thrill of the chase
Wide open muzzle and gore on the face,
Guarding the game till the kittens locate
Then the spoils of the chase will make portions dictate.*
Marshalg
Serengetti Plain
Central Africa
30 November 2012
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
*A tentative touch unsure
of erotica I've yet to explore.
Her sweet ripe ******* allure
my watering mouth can't ignore.
Tickling teasing touch to ignite us
giggling on our high
Soft soothing caresses in between
wondering why I was so shy...
Our fingers tangled in long blonde hair,
then gently stroking soft warm skin.
Bodies writhing, legs entwining,
where she ends, there I begin.
Oblivious to our thoughts
enambered with desires
Lips of wine in heated passion
soaring pleasures even higher.
Perfumed oil on bodies glistening,
**** laughs and playful fights.
Lace and heels and toys aplenty,
Girl, we'll make this last all night.
By EJ and Cné*
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
It’s not that big a surprise
How much I adore Amsterdam
Like immigrants long ago
So welcomed here just as I am
In the historic Lloyd Hotel
To witness a wedding so swell
I’m glad I’m here in Amsterdam
Canals and bikes aplenty
Whizzing past on every street
The Keukenhof gardens amazed
VanGogh’s Museum made me weep
I’m glad I’m here in Amsterdam
We walked for miles & took the train
Our flight home I made not a peep
It must have been that Space Cake
We ate it and went right to sleep
A fond farewell to Amsterdam
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
I know today the world celebrates you
But in my heart, your festival plays all season
To craft songs in your praise is honour
And this wordsmith is honorable aplenty
I know I'll never know the pain
The way societies have pushed you when
You blinded them with your radiance
Now enlightened they can only apologise
Justice is the cry!
Tell me it is not my lone heart
I do not strive to appease,
it is just what every woman deserves
Even if I lend my hand to
just the ones close to my heart
They say intelligence comes from one's experience,
and wisdom from those of others'
Wise I have become,
so I pledge to be better than my fathers
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 8:29 AM UTC
You carry a weight that's so heavy
A caravan filled with so many
You journey along, the sand is your song
And heat filled with sun rays aplenty
With your guidance we soon will become
Unified with God's grace and God's love
Your knowledge is great, sufficient in strength
Standing small as you tower above
You feel pain just the same as we do
You will cry tears of sadness for you
Tune into the light, your spirit is bright
You reflect what sunlight shines in you
Teaching us to heal and to move on
Even dark times when sadness has won
To listen up close, is what I have chose
Especially when life comes undone
Spirit Camel, you never run dry
Capabilities keep you alive
You're a natural at heart, playing the part
Mother Nature intended you by
To ride on with you makes me feel safe
With you there is no rush and no haste
Taking our time, learning how to decide
With a rhythm of peaceful-like pace
Self sustaining without an ego
Spreading love every place that we go
We survive day and night, sharing your plight
We are one with your wandering soul
As your milk provides food for your calf
You have cared for us on your behalf
Without a complaint, and in your restraint
It appears that you smile and laugh
You must see how humans sometimes seem
Like a nightmare and not like a dream
Yes we can be, idiotic you see
We have so much to learn from your scheme
I am honored to know you great one
May your message be carried with love
Through winds and life's storms, may we be reborn
With your courage and gentle wisdom
© tHE tERRY tREE
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
The heart works for the hard work,
beating constantly as targets are acquired.
Shots fired, money wired and payments aplenty.
Contacts signed, terms and conditions defined,
it could take time, but the ***** rolling.
Touch base as we reach for the stars,
customers in charge, their business is ours.
We roll monthly, comfortably in our own domains,
renew them annually again as the pattern remains the same.
Some days, it's a struggle to get out of the pit,
feeling burnout, lack energy for my daily workout.
The wage ain't great but the dividends could add up to millions.
Some are cynical but I won't listen to those opinions.
I treat my staff as people not minions.
No need for incidents were a team of individuals.
Passionate and driven creatures,
hidden features and secret keepers.
Let's get money and lets get paid,
Theres a million ways we can earn more than the minimum wage.
Let's raise the bar, the city is ours and the worlds not too far away...
Dream tomorrow and live today.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Looks like you need a drink...
What'll it be, let me think...
One thing you should know, Little Miss,
I'm not a bartender... I'm just winging this...
Hmm...
Arc in a cocktail shaker
Filled halfway up
Throw Melz in the mix
Just a dollop
Let's see now...
Spoonful of rhymes
Make that a table
Few drops of Conor
If he's up and able
Almost ready...
A touch of Tea
Maybe a tad more
A dose of Frank
In a little pour
Just about done...
Cap it up
Shake that shaker
Pour it out
Top with Silver
Ahh...
In a cocktail glass
Now sprinkle with Dani
Let's not stinge
Sprinkle aplenty
There you go, Hon... Take a full swig
When you see the bottom, your pain wouldn't seem so big...
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
A self confessed dreamer
One that knew no bounds
Can't keep his mind in tether
It's always fleeing from the grounds
He'd always been the dreamer
Picking the shackles of reality
Always hopeful of finding another
A safe haven, an escape, a sanctuary
Madness is thought of this silly little dreamer
Forever bartering reality for a life of fantasy
"He's moonstruck", said one to the other
Obstinate still he chooses to wander free
Alas one day, he stumbled upon a jewel
Glistening, deceivingly within arm's reach
But a beautiful game was played so cruel
Fate wouldn't give easily what it could teach
Glimpses of undefined beauty
Himself drawn closer to this beacon
He craves for this gem so madly
Didn't care for what's to happen
He descended to the surface
One thing he just did realise
That the jewel wasn't in its place
But a reflection of another in the skies
He looked up, he spun and he squinted
Attempting this search he had just begun
For a moment he found himself to be blinded
For the jewel is indeed the sun
He marvels at her beauty
Till his eyes turned red and sore
But he doesn't stop even briefly
For she's the object of his adore
He gazes at his newfound muse
Till the day grew dim and late
When she sets he would hesitate and refuse
To return willingly to his ****** state
Through promise he returns daily
To catch his sun as she would rise
For she fills him with aplenty
And she listens to his forlorn cries
He loves her much as she did him
In each other's magic the two would bask
As time flits by, the day grows dreadfully dim
Too short a time from dawn till dusk
The dreamer waits patiently
As dusk turns to dawn
The dreamer waits painfully
For she will come then she'll be gone
This rise is somewhat special
For his love he had made known
She admits the love is reciprocal
For him her love had also grown
But the dreamer will soon come to realise
Out of reach his sun he can never kiss
Her bountiful love will be the ultimate prize
The prize he can never claim to be fully his
*"Silly little dreamer feeding your childish dreams"
"Silly little dreamer what fanciful notions you make"
"Silly little dreamer you'll be ripped at the seams"
"Silly little dreamer not every heart you just can take"*
He pays no heed to what the others say
He knows his chances run exceedingly slim
He's walking on tightrope that's doomed to fray
But what happens today is what really matters to him
I am that silly little dreamer
Whose feet is never on the ground
I have chosen to live part of my life in wonder
For it is you that I have found
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
The shivering eyeglasses lazily coating the ground
Break way to the budding of the season.
To reincarnate is to live the anomaly,
The evergreen boughs bend in the wind.
Coalescing crystals form dew on our morn
To leave a fresh taste, on lips, on tongue.
The time is imminent, but the dawn is young,
My white Orchid, born to the sun.
Simply, optically, it's to weak to touch
Unworthy digits, to blind to see.
My scarlet levees, to right to feel.
The ivory blossom, to right to be real.
Under the canopies, the shimmering outline
Moves closer until the mirror cracks
And our reflections are polymorphicly one,
Our hearts still polyamorously two.
I yearn to dream of lucid lavender,
The aroma surrounds the dream, still dreamed
The scent so real, or so it seemed
Encapsulating this moment in amber.
Until we sleep, until we fly
Together. Our wings open to embrace the quilted high.
Our mouths embrace to fill the void,
Unleash the magic, bathing us in light
Bricks and mortar overlap my thoughts
But time alone is not a wall.
Time alone, it cannot fall
And it still ticks with the beat of my pendulum.
Oh flower, oh life, vitality aplenty.
Your hideousness, a secret untold,
Withers to your beauty, yet to unmold.
Le voyage fantasme is here for me now.
And now the grains slip between my toes.
The sandcastles caress the glass of our hour.
It's never too late, but always on time,
So before the light fades, kiss me and say
"I'll sleep tonight,
I'll dream of you."
Orchid, my Orchid, love, my love
I'll dream with you forever.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 7:39 PM UTC
Keith has done his rain dance
No more fun in the sun
Too much time in Egypt
until the war was done
Rain rain rain aplenty
all the drains are running empty
Like Santa's Rudolph always prancing
I will keep on rain dancing
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:57 AM UTC
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy
~~~
the divers’ recovery, diverse,
shipwrecked salvage from different locations,
auctioned to the highest bidder,
tho the excised excerpts are exceptional,
none come to do the bidding,
for the provenance of words
belongs to all, and to none
~~
“so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction”
“the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few,
like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am,
evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings,
how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty
to love the crafted content of our human essence to better
comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared
words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule,
becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit”
“murmur me, with soft downy charms,
these words discovered
recoursed and intended well to
pointedly offset and contradict
their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering,
tear tongue me
with calming, lapping word wages,
hymns harmonious and fine homilies,
a call, a request,
a bequest
to sedate my shrill life
“some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally,
aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes,
making me speak in tongues I do not recognize,
but fluently possess, no wonder there,
the memory place fairly empty,
room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery
of the vaguest of dearly departed
skin is not the only mot shed,
sloughing of woeful words”
“speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor these words at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them”
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 4:55 AM UTC
This isn't about front lines and deep mud,
it's not about sacrifice and bands of brotherhood.
It's not calling for silence or for national pride,
it's not about cenotaphs and those left behind.
No, this a thank you to one Ernest Page,
Gunner Sergeant, Royal Field Artillery, 182nd Brigade.
Thank you for ducking, thank you for dodging,
thank you for lasting, thank you for living.
Thanks for returning back home to Brockley.
Thanks for asking Gran and building a family.
Thank you for dad and for little Aunt Betty,
for Pam and for Pete and for cousins aplenty.
Thanks for Rose Cottage, for trips round the lake,
thanks for loud laughter and sleepy eyed late
mugs of hot chocolate and medeira cake slabs.
Thanks for my sisters, thanks again for my dad.
Thank you for surviving, and all that implies.
I owe you it all, I owe you this life.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Words aplenty I always have
To express the way I feel
Yet looking in your eyes right now
Word's can’t even begin to tell
I feel no hate towards anyone
Though perhaps I should for you
But I know any hate I hold inside of me
Would destroy me too
I am saddened by the reasons
I now look at you
For you and myself but most of all
For our families too
My heart cries for your children
As it cries for my own
Left alone without both their parents
To love there in their home
Such a senseless act of desperation
For a small nominal gain
That ended the life of a beautiful man
Bringing all of us such pain
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 8:25 AM UTC
bow tie and collars
nice pair of suspenders
buzzcut and braid
wanna get laid?
sex-tuned world
labels all swirled
high level of confusion
doubt and frustration
all the stigma about
sexuality gender who you are
we tell you where you fit
labels aplenty
let me name many
**** *** thot, *****
these and much much more
***** ***** and traitor
see you all later
******* druggie, and ****
nerd, geek, emo, goth
**** ****** loner
crackhead and stoner
athletic and pretty
simple or ****
labels aplenty
go on, take your pick
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
===
!!!!!
!!!!!
=== !!!!! ===
!!!! !!!!! !!!!!
!!!! !!!!! !!!!!
!!!!! !!!!! !!!!!
!!!!! !!!!! !!!!!
!!!!!!
!!!!!!
!!!!!!
## # !!!!!! ####
#### ####### ### ## ######################
sentinel, you grow in peace
you who have seen war
you saw the native people
killed off by the score
you continue on your way
the source of tale and lore
you have a heart
that will not cease
for a hundred years or more
this is the great saguaro
he scrapes the sky with arms
flung up to the heavens
though huge you do no harm
you have thorns aplenty
but also have your charms
you will watch forevermore
ever sounding the alarm
soulsurvivor
(c) 6/11/2015
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
There’s a sense of something really good this Christmas,
There’s a feeling in the air that it’s OK
The anticipation’s there about ….a happiness out there
And the weather outlook’s brilliant for the day.
Mother’s planning a big roast for Christmas dinner
There’ll be sparkles and bright spangles on the tree,
Underneath there’s quite a pile, gaily wrapped to bring a smile
And a kiss beneath the mistletoe for me?
Spare a thought for all poor souls who have nobody
Gift-wrap a parcel or two for the disowned,
To make some unknown person smile advances Christmas by a mile
And really brightens up the prospects for the un-homed.
It’s a day to gift good wishes to your loved ones
Share some cold beers in the sunshine on the deck,
And when we’ve eaten to excess and helped mum clean up the mess
There will be time to take a snooze…and what the heck!
So to all our friends, across this world, aplenty,
May we take this opportunity to say
We hope your Christmas be as good as we know it really should
And may Santa gift you happiness ….to stay!
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Love from Janet and Marshal.
“Foxglove”
Taranaki, New Zealand.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
This was written a few Septembers ago. Walking on the streets of a now deserted beach island, only the leaves, in various states, to keep me company.
September,
walk with me,
under bridges of wedding tree canopies,
still green aplenty,
tho subtle marked for change,
making summer illusions,
environmentally unsustainable.
September,
stroll on pathways
of lesser, off the track, shaded lanes,
the sun blocker trees wear new necklaces,
brown and yellow diamonds,
a coming attraction of
their denouement,
their denudement.
The September trees are:
Ever so slightly stooped,
bent with weight of a surety,
knowing with high certainty,
their future, bleak,
bowed and drooped,
discouraged by the
cold travails soon to arrive.
Living in the recent past,
I am dressed inappropriately,
white tee and shorts,
past pretender,
still dressed in my
Gap issue summer uniform,
summer suspended animation.
Island streets are de-humanized,
gone home are the children,
newly fallen leaves have,
their place, taken.
The leaves are:
magically organized along
the sidelines of empty streets,
quiet stadiums of would be
kid's touch football fields.
browned, crisp and soulless,
first greet this solitary stroller,
like a cheering throng of ghosts,
celebrating a sighting -
man, as a seasonal fossil,
one that still is living
and worth reminding, yet
human too shall pass when
his fall arrives.
the leave's cheers make over
into jeers and mocking laughs:
Oh humans, they say,
your summer songs naive,
mais tres charmant.
On Crescent Beach,
the driftwood sadly forlorn,
looking more adrift than ever,
for no one passes to express
admiration at the past seasons
Nouveau Expressionism,
an objet d'art lonely,
for the beach gallery shuttered,
raising questions existential.
Is driftwood on the beach sans
human admiration,
art, truth or refuse?
I am looking backwards as the
Earth moves forward.
My own axis, my eyes,
conscientious objectors
refuse to be pressed
into service of the seasons.
No, no,
to involuntary servitude,
to rotation and revolution.
Nature's witnesses,
trees and leaves write
their own poem,
of foolish men who:
Bow and droop,
discouraged by the
travails soon to arrive,
Delaying their own fall,
finally shed summer delusions
like leaves upon the ground,
summer poetry silenced,
summer suspended, no more.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
Introduction:
What is Preludium but a time to reflect on what it is we know;
What has gone before, and how it might shape those things to come?
Preludium, or, what has gone before:
An entire world,
A great big steaming musty living breathing screaming world and-
For all we know-
There’s but two souls that care to fill it:
Sly Squint, our latest hero,
Swinging through his city like t’were a steaming jungle
And him the proverbial Ape,
He crouches in shadows on rooftops,
Directing his lust, forceful! At all
That kneels before him.
Then there’s our mysterious wanderer-
One hell of a sorry, stinking, sulky sort is he.
No Name to claim yet garbed in rags aplenty
Travelling on an endless quest
Towards a dying dusk.
Yet we need to draw a Third.
See, in this strange place we find ourselves, riddled with danger and loss,
We need one who knows some things;
One who is up there;
Better yet, one who helped to shape this world.
Because for now we are clueless, vulnerable, shambling in darkness.
And that will simply not do.
So, with haste, dear reader, with haste,
Let us ride for the one with the answers;
The one with more Names than you can count, even if you had a lifetime in which to do so;
The one who holds all the strings.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
Get out your sponges, stippling brushes and pens,
It’s time for makeover-Monday-night to begin.
Think Winky Lux, L’Oréal, Urban Decay,
Maybelline, Armani and Fabergé
It’s a black magic realm where brushes are wands,
where a carnival of colors are carefully crayoned.
We have palettes aplenty, in kaleidoscope hues,
to create fashion looks, both bold and subdued.
In the realm of makeup fashion, where trends never end,
we remodel each other - for fun - when we can.
Tonight, our new friend Jammie has come to watch us play,
and he even brought two bottles of chardonnay.
Lisa has a ‘Miss Rose’ case, like she saw in Bernadette Peters’
dressing room, on a backstage tour of the Shubert Theatre.
Konjac, Kabuki, Doe foots, Spoolie, Lisa’s got legit tools to use.
“When it comes to makeup,” she says, “always avoid dupes.”
That night I was the chosen face, the excited living canvas.
Lisa’s a practiced artist, her process is brisk and never tedious.
She painted my lips a crimson cherry, alluring and brightly sensuous,
my brows were moonlit art, my cheeks a midnight adumbrated edifice.
Lisa created a special look, where rebellious edge met elegance.
We took some snaps, then I washed it off - but Jammie was impressed!
Jun 6, 2023
Jun 6, 2023 at 10:51 PM UTC
Fingers
Picking ****** flowers
Dripping spice burgundy
Staining serenity
A touch of
Surreal simplicity
Undaunted movement of
Molecular fractals
Bursting in waves
Of fantastical light
Sensual trickles
Tongue
Licking sappy mosses
Amber and honey
Expanding swiftly
An odyssey through the
Gums and divisions
Between ivory teeth
Ecstasy aplenty
Flooding down through
The body
Leaving stains
Of serenity
Nostrils
Sniffing smoky cedar
Microscopic air ripples
Orchestra of tune and note
Tune and note
Whispers and cries
Kisses and sighs
Invisible in form and sight
These do travel
Through tunnels
Those give sense of smell
Droplets of spice burgundy
Toes
Sinking through layer
Under layer of moist clay
Descending in time shaken
Matter
Pores of the skin
Breathing air and soil
Replenishing vital veins
Rivers of beating blood
Unending
Molecular fractals
Fingers
Picking ****** flowers
Dripping spice burgundy
Staining serenity
A touch of
Surreal simplicity
Undaunted movement of
Molecular fractals
Bursting in waves
Of fantastical light
Sensual trickles
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 9:55 PM UTC
I came upon a parade of Zinnias
today..lined along the pave-way,
wild and wily. An infinite variety
of colorful heads popping up
and out, like eyes of
wary prairie dogs,
on the lookout for action.
Thought of you...the flower heads
you gave me, filled with seeds
aplenty to plant in the spring.
Knew just where they would go.
Imagined my hands in the
welcoming earth, sowing
them at just the right depth.
They would grow, reaching
with their long thin frames.
Vigorously tall and full of
summers brightness.
Symmetrical flowers
filled with attitude
towards the sun.
Flourishing in cracks along
sidewalks and driveways.
Finding comfort and feeling free
in the most limited of spaces.
Yet...I did not plant them.
Aware that I am not able,
just now, to make such a commitment.
To water and **** Ensuring that they
would reach their full potential.
A simple promise of one season.
To nourish a delicate, perfect Zinnia.
~Christi Michaels~July 2015~
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC
Why do artists **** their arts?
Journalists obey corporate bosses.
Doctors peddle drugs for status.
Lawyers work for robber barons.
Bankers' havens for barons' taxes.
Kings start wars for hefty profits.
Charity's done for the sake of publicity.
Vanity today is a thriving industry.
Shopping's done with borrowed money.
Bankruptcy levels; not seen in history.
From hazardous things; profits aplenty.
Poisoned wells we leave our progeny.
These lunacies have a common cause,
To win 'the rat race'; at any **** rate,
Even earthly mother, we brutally ****
How much is enough, to be content?
Pharaoh's wealth was greater than most,
But while he drowned, it saved him not.
Instead, strive for a righteous life,
Bonded to mother, free from desire.
For we're not islands, or rats in a race.
And when we stand on Judgement Day,
Our wealth that day will have no say,
Our deeds that day will lead the way.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Many a time I've thought long and hard
Long have I picked at this stabbing splintered shard
Is He here or is He just an idea that's been long embedded
If He's here, then why do my eyes they both seem covered
Many a time I've questioned why I don't want to see
Because I really feel like it's only happening to me
I've pondered and tried to view for many different lenses
I've wondered aplenty why I haven't come to my senses
Many a time I've reassured myself with the following
That He does not give when you know you're not deserving
Challenges for you He does not wilfully make
Only those which He knows you definitely can take
Many a time that I've asked if I really do believe
When my discontentment triumphs and over it I grieve
I know that if in my heart I want Him found
It's time that I finally pulled my head out of the ground
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
he plucks orange leaves
orange is his favourite shade
rain seeps through the soil
harvest brings food aplenty
flavours: pumpkin, cinnamon
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC