"jotting" poems
In a Skype chat room
Topic : I Like Haiku's
**************
Me--- (LadyBird)
Haiku's I do like
for they are so easily
written in three worded lines
Friend--(TonyS)
Writing in Haiku
forces me to think about,
what is important
Me--- (LadyBird)
indeed you are right
writing them is important
and can be therapeutic
would you mind if I
add your words in my Haiku
giving you credit ?
this conversation
we are in is very fun
what are you thinking?
Friend--(TonyS)
I find great solace
in the idea that my words
are that important!
I have no problem
with allowing you to use
my simple verses!
Pining for someone
who I love very dearly
takes most of my time.
Me--- (LadyBird)
awesome Thank you so
much; I really enjoy this
writing is a passion
as you can see I
enjoy the flow of my words
and all that inspire
you are so kind I
will for sure keep an eye on
your wonderful wods
thank you very much
hoping I was no bother
to you my dear friend
I try to keep my
pen with me jotting down all
my thoughts from within
it is so nice to
meet someone that shares the same
passion for writing
please do keep in touch
I will for sure stay in touch
with you my dear friend
Friend--(TonyS)
The pleasure is mine!
To meet a friend is always
an enriching thing.
My name is Tony!
It is always nice to meet
new internet friends!
Me--- (LadyBird)
your name is so cool
it is indeed very nice
to make a new friend
it is so funny
I knew your name was Tony
from your user name
this is the most fun
I have had in three long days
I do enjoy it
Haiku-ing is like
text-ing with out a cell phone
it is fun indeed
Friend--(TonyS)
The pleasure is mine!
To meet a friend is always
an enriching thing.
Me--- (LadyBird)
I find great solace
to know that you share the same
interest as I do
Friend--(TonyS)
Names are only words,
I am nice because I am
who I want to be.
I am Tony Stark,
at least in my heart and mind.
Money? Not so much.
It was a pleasure,
this banter being quite fun,
maybe again soon?
Me--- (LadyBird)
Wow that sounds so cool
Tony Stark is so good looking
very good actor
names are only words
they don't describe who we are
inside is what count
thank you for talking
to me my friend it was fun
indeed again soon
gonna end convo
nice chatting with you my friend
now I say goodbye
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
This poem has no greater or deeper meaning,
You'll find no revelation worth even dimes,
No great personal thought or investment,
(Unless you think it needs one. I don't)
But that I quite love dried mangoes
Then, jotting this like scribbles,
I know they won't last long
It seems quite scary...
All shrinking out.
Fade away.
And now
Gone.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 1:01 PM UTC
As leaves of crimson fall,
& bleed like cherry wine
sleeping parrot greens,
they overtake mind,
I quietly approach,
set up a sneaky blind,
I spot a toucan looking tree
in colors rarely seen
it takes my breath away
in soft & brilliant sheens,
showing off the beauty,
& creating quite a scene,
Amber hues of mustard,
blending in with rust,
others look like wheat
that was baked inside a crust,
so telling you about it,
is something that I must,
Burning up the sky
in flamingo sunset pink
as if I'm in the Tropic's
just sippin' down a drink,
look at all the colors,
just amazing,
don't you think?
Like a lovely bird of paradise
is landing in my hair,
so I can write it down
a story we can share,
I'm jotting down the words,
like Ginger & Astaire,
Out arift upon the skies
I hear the weeping willow
I close my eyes to dream
& lay on leafy pillows
like sheets of iridescent,
quoting as they billow,
I stand in admiration,
a journey that I applaud
sent to me from heavens
from hands, a loving God,
leaves today are burning
stand mystified & awed
So beautiful & grand
your plumage is at peak,
waving me dear willow
I softly hear her speak,
Listen to the sounds
as they open up their beak
Go press a few examples
to savor every day
listen very closely
to every word I say
you take 'em out again
when the skies are turning grey
Cherie Nolan© 2016
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
So I haven't had time
To read many prose and rhymes
Sneaking pretty words like drugs
From all the **** poem writing thugs
Hide up under the bar
I've only read two so far
Work is cutting in to my addiction
Reading and writing, my affliction
Maybe I can hide in the storage closet
That gives me time to write one comment
Jotting rhymes on my arm
Who said poetry didn't cause harm
Its my obsession
This is my confession
I cannot hide it anymore
I recognise I'm a poem *****
I go from one poem to another
"Feeling" them up like a lover
Then on to the next
For more word ***
Yep, I'm a nympho-poemac
Addicted to poetry crack
Your pretty words are my drugs
And you **** poets are the poem writing thugs
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC
Sitting alone at the bar
Writing down my dreams
On cocktail napkins with beer stains
As the smoke slowly circles the ceiling fans
I felt helpless and weak
Wishing you’d steal a kiss
And fall asleep wrapped in my arms
Caressing your lips softly with my fingertips
Leaving at her beckoning
Tempted by a sultry dance
In a serpent’s grasp ensnared
By a gorgon’s gaze, a siren’s song entranced
How can I compete?
But how can I lose you
It may well **** me to watch you spiral
But here I am, slowly dying for you
Sitting daydreaming in a bar
Jotting down some insecurities
About an endless lonely existence
No resisting, no escape, no remedies
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 12:41 PM UTC
Jotting everything down
Lists and dates
NAMES Names names...
I know your faces
But I can't remember
Adding to my confusion
Forgetting simple things
In my daily routine
Question marks
Screen my thoughts
What was I doing?
I ask myself
Entering a room
Where am I going with this
What was my point
Oh ya!!
I FORGOT
Jl 2016
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
I have fought hard with Anxiety
Having been swung between
Two spheres of moods
One of melancholy and the other
Of excited elated optimism
Between the two
I would exhaust myself
Day and Night
And to deal with my emotions
Was no easy task
I would cry and weep
I would feel down
And blame myself
I would apologize
For being thus
I was not in my element
I tell
When I am fresh
I feel I have lagged behind
Due to missing things while at low
It has been one sad plight
For me to have come thus far
I am still hopeful of a day
When I have overcome
These swinging moods
I hope to keep a positive
Spirit that enables me
To act constructively
When I can't be constructive
I would just start affirm
That I am more
Than I think I am
Then I start
To work like I have been
Able bodied and able minded
Sitting here
jotting down makes it all come
to view. Affirm and believe
that is what i do now
to be better each day
I am responsible
I am reliable
I ma resourceful
I am resilient
i am healthy; i am lucky ; i am virtuous; i am organized
I feel the energy when I say these
I act different when I say these
I have faith surging into my veins
From somewhere or nowhere
I create, I cook, I clean, I write,
I eat, I make tea, I feed my family
I pray, I meditate, I am not overwhelmed
i am a wonderful person
When I affirm
I can live with this person
She is good to me
She thinks highly of me
She attracts nice friends to her
She is just pleasant to be around
She is someone I could love forever
She is my friend and hero
She is my superstar and confidant
She is all I need to keep me
Close to the Creator
I love her
I love me
I love the positive me
I love the quiet me
I love the peaceful me
I love the loving me
I love the lovable me
i love all that she could be
I love all that she gave up for me
I love her day and night
I love being with her all my life
I need noone but her
I need nothing but her love
I need nothing but her assurance
I need only her
She and I
We are one and the same
We play and plan together
We are best friends
We create our good times
We are the joy of the world
We are the gift to the world
Together we conquer
Together we let go
Together we enjoy the ocean
Together we go places
Together we are I and myself
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
A lifelong Michigander
I've endured my share of brutal winters
The ones that seem to thoroughly freeze you
Right into the cracks of your armor
You know, the toughness that you show the world
Deeper experiences than your skin, reaching past and
Down right to your bones
A woman seemingly designed for melancholy
I struggle and have to beware of making it my identity
For I am much more than that sorrow which has shaped me
I've endured my share of hardship and pain
You know, the kind that bandages cannot reach
And pain can feel like a gnawing within
Like the winters that penetrate you
Ones that reach your bones
And bone crushing, they do feel
But I'm no fool
And I use the pain
For in vain I won't let it become
For spring could not be so glorious, it seems
Without the show of its flip-side...a frozen reality
Joy would be meaningless to me
Without understanding the truth of
Disappointment, sorrow, hurt, loneliness...
gut-wrenching misery that all must face
At least once in their lives
Maybe it sounds cliche but....
The rain might seem dismal and unpleasant
But surely you bask in the green of its fulfillment
A birth might be agonizing for the mother
But surely the life brought into the world is the beautiful result
These are some of my thoughts, lately
The conceiving and jotting down of them
Help me to hold on when life doesn't seem right
Help me to grow beyond my comforts to reach up and beyond
Challenging me to stretch my faith into a bigger dimension
While getting through the tempests of life
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
The way he held me
How his eyes sparked
When met with mine
My god it threw me
Into a hope
Consuming
But hope is tricky
And slippery
And devouring reason
Committing treason
For a season
Then returning
In the yearning
Of the glance
From a new boy
From a new romance
****
Phases of the moon
Of the heart
A slivering slice of a crescent
The
Oh dear god
HOPE
Of a new start
LOL.
Just kidding
This new moon
And this new thing
Can’t be seen
In the dark of night
In my limited sight
Black-on-black
It’s all just the same ****
Right?
No way, baby!
Call it a maybe!
Call it a feather
In your hat
On your wing
Just fly into the horizon
Of the hope
Of this new thing
Until the arrow
Of the truth
Enters the marrow
Of your VIP booth
This is not cool
This is ruth…
Listen to me
You idiot
You fool
Remember boy one
Who held you
And flew too close to the sun
He burned you to ash
Then said “goodbye forever
I’m done”
Well, **** me up
That was fun
Then boy two
Who shoved you
Into the abyss
Wait...I’d be remiss
Not to mention
All of that ****** tension
Simmering
Steaming
Boiling
And Gleaming
Like the rays of the moon
Is she full yet?
Nah, it’s too soon
She’s still hiding
In the newness
Of nothing
Of black-on-black
Call me out
I lack a back
Bone to hold up
Any more hope
It’s all rotting now
In bed all day
Jotting down
Memories as if they will save me
Wow.
Okay.
Less saving
Instead
Evaporate me
Into the ether
Into the sun
Into the moon
The end seems far away
So I’ll just bide time
In my cocoon
Dreaming of the day
When she will bloom
Into her fullness
Picturesque
Over the crescent
Of a dune
Aug 26, 2022
Aug 26, 2022 at 8:54 AM UTC
I chronicle in rhythm and rhyme,
Scribbling, jotting, imaging the times:
I dug down to Lucy,
And China's Great Wall,
Compared Viking raids with personal tirades;
Asked God questions, questioned Jeff Sessions,
And all of that where-with-all.
I've called wrong out, and written about
Our scandals, all fancy or true;
I've offered you solace,
Even opened my wallet,
And grieved when it was due.
I've been self-righteous,
And sometimes right selfless,
When parsing my love for you.
But now it should end,
I've less left to send,
And so love I bid, Adieu.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
Jotting down a few words
As I update a journal
Influences of her perfection
Adds a status quo
Marvel by her ways
I put together a sentence
Like a songbird
Verbalizing a perch
No dictionary can match
Her superb dialect
Barriers of longevity
I discovered myself
Doubts in her words with captivity
Lost in a colloquial speech
No woman on earth moves
As if she does
Intriguing to the thoughts
Her grammar
Has many episodes
Which causes drama within
Shall I abandon
What have I learned
Knowing my love
Is just a few acronyms
Can sell no less
In terms of our
Endearment
Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 10:43 PM UTC
this isn't a poem. this isn't some well written piece of literature that will be quoted underneath photos of our depressed youth of America. this is me jotting down my thoughts at 9:26 p.m. i sit in the darkness of my newly decorated room (i needed a change of scenery, so a make over was in place) and i wonder why you don't like me. maybe i'm not specifically upset as to why you aren't interested, but more so why half the guys i pursue look the other way. I'm sitting here, dear reader, and i realize that it isn't the sad songs that make me cry, but instead the dead silence that crowds my empty room. I wonder why you didn't take me when you had the chance, didn't sweep me off my feet. I've annoyed my friends with the constant talking of you, it consumes me. i don't understand why my own two legs are strangers to the rest of my body and why they can't hold me up sometimes. i passed English 1101 with a 99, and yet i can't seem to find the right words to string together and form a sentence to utter out of my mouth. my mouth won't form the right shape to pronounce the few words i can muster. when someone asks me if i'm ok, i cry. I'm in mourning, i hate the snow that packs the sidewalks. you weren't mine and that's hard to process. it's like i have found my soulmate, but my soulmate doesn't return the same affection. sometimes i feel that i am seen as only meat for boys of all ages to circle around and toy with before they viciously devour. I am eye candy, i am known for nothing other than my appearance. when i write, i am my words. today i went to an abandoned house and i felt sadness surround me, along with the scent of musk and moth ***** i bought a goldfish and it died because i over fed it. i care too much about things and they die.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
write a poem everyday
make it a daily habit
note whatever you've to say
the bitter or the sweet.
stare at the screen before you
or the page if it's so
there's always something new
awaiting your ink's flow.
some you've to dig not much
a few need delving deep
some may feel like feather touch
a few would make you weep.
sometimes the hand would just not move
at other would run like horse
sometimes the words would sing and groove
cry out like waves' roars.
while you write you may bleed
or kiss the blue like bird
jotting down is all you need
the inner voice that's heard.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
I wrote a letter the other day.
dancing around the subject of dragonflies
I don’t speak in their language
honestly its too complicated
because I don’t speak in nuzzles
I don’t speak in love
I speak in the cold attitude of indifference
I mutter thoughts in blue ballpoint pen
To him I speak in keyboard clicks
with a snap of a twig we flip
and we are in the same room
matching cereal bowls
emptied of their contents in the sink
We speak in notches on a bed post
and a mattress on the floor
We speak in unwashed sheets
He crushes my disdain as if it were a walnut shell
and informs me that I speak in my sleep
Whatever the weather we stay at home
stare out the windows at the fairy lit wilderness
jotting down whatever concepts come to mind
he is cream rolling in peaks
smooth and whipped
poured over his duvet
as if he were cool whip on peach pie
He is my worst intentions personified
I wrote a letter the other day.
dancing around the subject of dragonflies
I dont speak in their language
but he speaks mine
even though its complicated
we don't speak in words
we speak in private displays of affection
we speak in caring closed door moments
and the texts he asks me to send when I walk home alone
To make sure I am safe
and In the end I may mutter thoughts in blue ballpoint pen
but He reads them loud and clear and responds in love
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
Stare at your father,
At the cornered sweat
Zigzagging between the Grey hair
Left on the borders of his skull;
At the spit
Exiting from the white bars
That once kept his words unsaid.
Stare at him,
While he repeats the same sentence
Over and over and over
Until the words curve spaces
At the back of your ears,
Till all you can hear is
“Keep your dreams in the depth of your pockets,
Dreams can float once your pockets are full”.
But my dreams are like plants
They need light to grow,
And my pocket is not exactly
The place I was thinking about.
Stare at your Facebook homepage;
The girls left an imprint.
The imprints were coded
And the codes became a covenant
Of which-
You gave yourself;
And every time before you go to sleep
You repeat the same sentence
“She is not the one.
You love her because she is an image in your head,
She is not the one.
The one reads books
And books have been written about her,
The one plays the right music,
The one creates scenarios in her head
And asks you to act them with he;r
The one loves you back
The one loves you back.”
Stare at the circles you’ve been forming;
The words you’ve said
That you now take back-
Pull strings on your intestines
Till your up chuck reflex
Kicks in and you start
Jotting them on paper;
Who knows?
Maybe one day you’ll even write a poem.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
Breath count.
Doubled out.
Half pause and exhale.
Breathe full for more.
Closed eyelids.
Charged silence.
And then
A siren vibration chorus
opens up two contrasted locked doors,
and falls through my porous shapes.
Wash the old cell storage and erase
this byzantine conduit maze made
for losing myself to the grey man inside my skull.
Pull back my irises and behold
a reshaping of awareness.
I AM thisss awareness.
In bold language and expansion,
upward glances and dances
I made up from star dust ballerinas dancin.
So far away from being lost to the chances.
There are no chances.
Life was made not for you, but from you.
To pull through purpose
and choose to
keep
on
breathin.
Directing ITs glow.
Showing God how to flow.
How to sing praise and know
that nothing has been lost or is leavin.
Darkened waters, and quaking storms are weakened
in the silent, still, space that this pressence has seeped in.
Of, in, around, and through.
Creepin.
Sleepin until called to move.
We are always callin.
So true.
Yeah,
IT stays so true.
Whatever you put in, IT pulls to you.
So open up, let in this groove
or choose to lose all that ever meant something.
Was or ever will be hard to lose.
Just see the space and welcome IT in
the empty fullness from where you begin
and end up to begin again.
Recycled through spirals of your imagination.
Practical estimate of reincarnation;
a collective memory passed down through generations
of double helix information storage stations
jotting down every hoped for expression
of who you could possibly be.
And still the variations reach towards infinity.
So yeah this kinda is your one shot
to give this particular expression what you got.
God has just got TOO many incredibly beautiful ideas waiting to be expressed.
And they are all YOU.
So take a step back, it's okay to be impressed.
But even when its hard not to lose my breath to this glorious unfolding,
I still gotta get up,
get dressed,
and go to work in the morning.
I greet presence with every breath I take.
Or at least try to remember ITs name.
I'm still unfolding myself.
Still just pushing the sleep dust from the corners of my eyes.
But with you by my side
there is no one against me.
Only a lover constantly insisting
that the room is oh so cleverly crowded with secret undercover versions of myself.
Existing in and expressing The ONE LIFE that we all are.
Come to me my Love.
Let us begin.
Again.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
the locomotive moves steadily across the tracks, puffing thick black smog into the air, never a whine until you pull the breaks.
the great rolling beast carries its prey, flaming fauna displaced from their rocky habitats, that wait to be swallowed up and converted to new life.
the procession of metal bodies traverses across worlds, taking its indomitable wheels into the tundra, the prairie, the urban jungle, at speeds unknown to lesser beings— or even the creators themselves.
but the mighty locomotive does not just conquer mountains and valleys, cities and forests alike.
it takes friends, partners, clients on the journey.
the smallest ones fall into slumber and breathe soundly, blending with the giant’s hum.
as the client’s size increases, their alert eyes dart across the land as the train rips through gravel, rock, and earth; a pasture of horses may be seen and addressed accordingly.
the full grown passenger opens their notebook, jotting down thoughts, identification numbers, budgets, letters, and the like.
they are often the assumed leaders within the belly of the beast, but the train knows of the true captain’s identity.
the final friends to name, the eldest in the cars.
they know the locomotive, being the on its quest across continents, possessing a gentle care with the resting of a hand upon the velvet organs of the beast.
the old ones know the displaced embers, rusted iron bones, cracked glass eyelids, and slowing wheels that come with conquered continents.
so, when the great train creaks to a stop, the elders exist their trusty cars, leave a tip for the porter, and whisper a quiet “thank you” to the train before stepping cautiously onto the oak platform below.
from the locomotive, never a whine, not even to beckon its favorite patrons farewell.
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 8:19 PM UTC
thoughts come crashing out of sound
my fingertips just jotting down
the words and all the feelings too
with depths as vast as the ocean blue
the lyrics flee my mouth and mind
as quickly as this watch tells time
each second ticks to match my pen
etching this paper from end to end
we’re emptying the flowing cup
of tears and smiles, it’s not enough
to cleanse me of those dying days
of barking dogs and kids at play
forever shadows in my brain
they’re never to be real again
but nothing will change for me
for i will never be set free
until words fall from outer space
into this soundproof plastic case
where they can scream but won’t be heard
for nothing is quite more absurd
than silences that shriek aloud
and chatter mouths who can’t be found
only fools attempt to understand
and that is why we walk this land
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 10:23 AM UTC
Had a lot on my mind
Tried jotting it down
Now I'm facing a DWI
Told the officer
*Sir I'm not drunk
I was just writing while I drive*
So he gave me a WWD
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
She hides behind the blond dye in her hair
and the often-smearing black rings around her eyes
the greatest struggle in her life as of late
is in the groggy mornings, having to rise
out of bed to face the day and the people
she would really rather avoid
She is black and white
a pendulum
stuck swinging from one side
of the spectrum to the other
There is no gray
in her life, and so,
to compensate,
her mind short circuited
and sent fireworks to the sky
She tends to writing songs with names
that explain their purpose just outright
as if she knows she needs to help the world to understand
what’s going on inside her head, and to write
the names of bands she thinks are rather nice
along the edges of her wrists and hands
She drinks quite a lot of tea
for a girl of her size
and obsesses over bands and boys
she knows may never know her name
she spends most of her time
learning and writing songs on her guitar
and jotting down lovely ideas
for fantasies and wild adventures
She isn’t the type of girl
you think you would expect
but the things she does
surprise you,
and that’s all you really need
As unique a girl that she is
adds great moments to any day,
so search for them,
and cherish them,
because a girl like this
does not come as often as you’d like
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
this is the first outing since you
Since "we" became and "you" and "I"
And I was terrified
But, it went alright.
Butterflies formed in my gut
But, not the kind you used to give
A different kind
A new kind
A kind that I could get used to.
I watched his face as he talked
I observed his mannerisms
And probably looked like a creep
But, for an instance, I could not recall yours.
We watched a movie and he laughed
A loud laugh that was contagious
A deep, full laugh
That was so different from what I've heard before.
I was awkward
And he was nice
We talked
And it was nice.
I apologized for being awkward
He said it was alright
He asked what I'm writing
I said "Nothing special"
I think I lied.
Not that I'm in love
But, now a bit less afraid
Like a weight lifted
Who knew fear weighed so much?
So what am I writing?
Just jotting down some thoughts
...Possibly
But...nothing special?
I might have lied.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Ten thousand words dedicated to everyone and everything in my life,
illustrating everything from love and happiness to heartache and strife.
I never think about jotting down much about myself except for what ills me,
so I’ll use this space at my own pace to try and explore each concept that fills me.
I like night much more than day,
it’s quiet and there’s more to what people say,
‘Cause even though I’m a good liar honesty is refreshing.
I like my music loud and long drives
but I always want to know where I’ll arrive,
It’s not that I’m a control freak but I don’t like to be kept guessing.
I’ve got an amazing memory,
you probably could quiz me,
I know almost every lyric to every song before two thousand and five.
And I’m strangely good at math,
in fact it still makes me laugh
that I was on the honour roll after missing 80 days; I didn’t even strive.
And I really love dogs,
elephants, penguins and frogs,
I believe animals are angels that live amongst us.
I love summer’s weather but winter’s clothing,
I can wear a happy mask or I’m always moping,
It’s not that I’m fake or depressed, I’m just like gold covered in rust.
I smoke like a chimney
even though I can barely breathe
and I love to dance when no one else is around.
I’m good at impersonations,
I can mimic a singer from each generation,
but it makes me question how I myself sound.
I like colourful lighters and pens,
my favourite numbers are all before ten,
And I can keep going on but it might get troubling.
I like to make everyone feel as ease,
And I like hanging out under trees,
You can call me Em but if I love you you can call me Emily.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
Dear Friend,
I care not if this doesn't trend....
I have to air these thoughts out,
I feel that I should, without a doubt.....
I came--with my baggage,
A bit fearful and without courage.
Though, at first, I hesitated,
I decided sooner, I should get started.
I saw--your concise comments,
Read them during my soulful moments.
Encouraging words you sincerely offered,
When some would not at all have bothered.
I conquered-- all my worries and fears....
With much support from YOU and the rest of our peers
Because of you, I write, unmindful of the throes,
Jotting down all my joys, my pain and my woes.
Lovely soul, dear friend,
You and your words, indeed, are heaven-sent...
A spring to nourish your parched lands,
Arid winds kept at bay, far away from your bushlands.
Suffice it to say....
You always make my day.
Elizabeth Squires, this one's for you....
My way of saying, "Thank you!"
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:33 AM UTC