"obeyed" poems
For too long I've worked
Run errands not shirked
I've obeyed the rules
Done with work, down tools
Almost end of day
Yaahaa! It's Friday!
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
PICTURE and book remain,
An acre of green grass
For air and exercise,
Now strength of body goes;
Midnight, an old house
Where nothing stirs but a mouse.
My temptation is quiet.
Here at life's end
Neither loose imagination,
Nor the mill of the mind
Consuming its rag and bonc,
Can make the truth known.
Grant me an old man's frenzy,
Myself must I remake
Till I am Timon and Lear
Or that William Blake
Who beat upon the wall
Till Truth obeyed his call;
A mind Michael Angelo knew
That can pierce the clouds,
Or inspired by frenzy
Shake the dead in their shrouds;
Forgotten else by mankind,
An old man's eagle mind.
9.2k
Children should obey their parents because that was what Jesus did.
Christ our Lord obeyed his parents every command when he was a kid.
Even though Jesus was perfect, he obeyed his imperfect parents because it was the right thing to do.
Children should strive to be like Jesus, they should obey their parents too.
When parents give their children chores and rules, it is for their own good.
If children are wondering if they should obey their parents, yes, they should.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
I was never the type
of child that obeyed
much of anything;
not even the many
times I was told
not to stare into
the evening sun
when I felt
alone.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 6:30 AM UTC
It was a hundred years ago,
When, by the woodland ways,
The traveller saw the wild deer drink,
Or crop the birchen sprays.
Beneath a hill, whose rocky side
O'erbrowed a grassy mead,
And fenced a cottage from the wind,
A deer was wont to feed.
She only came when on the cliffs
The evening moonlight lay,
And no man knew the secret haunts
In which she walked by day.
White were her feet, her forehead showed
A spot of silvery white,
That seemed to glimmer like a star
In autumn's hazy night.
And here, when sang the whippoorwill,
She cropped the sprouting leaves,
And here her rustling steps were heard
On still October eves.
But when the broad midsummer moon
Rose o'er that grassy lawn,
Beside the silver-footed deer
There grazed a spotted fawn.
The cottage dame forbade her son
To aim the rifle here;
"It were a sin," she said, "to harm
Or fright that friendly deer.
"This spot has been my pleasant home
Ten peaceful years and more;
And ever, when the moonlight shines,
She feeds before our door.
"The red men say that here she walked
A thousand moons ago;
They never raise the war-whoop here,
And never twang the bow.
"I love to watch her as she feeds,
And think that all is well
While such a gentle creature haunts
The place in which we dwell."
The youth obeyed, and sought for game
In forests far away,
Where, deep in silence and in moss,
The ancient woodland lay.
But once, in autumn's golden time,
He ranged the wild in vain,
Nor roused the pheasant nor the deer,
And wandered home again.
The crescent moon and crimson eve
Shone with a mingling light;
The deer, upon the grassy mead,
Was feeding full in sight.
He raised the rifle to his eye,
And from the cliffs around
A sudden echo, shrill and sharp,
Gave back its deadly sound.
Away into the neighbouring wood
The startled creature flew,
And crimson drops at morning lay
Amid the glimmering dew.
Next evening shone the waxing moon
As sweetly as before;
The deer upon the grassy mead
Was seen again no more.
But ere that crescent moon was old,
By night the red men came,
And burnt the cottage to the ground,
And slew the youth and dame.
Now woods have overgrown the mead,
And hid the cliffs from sight;
There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon,
And prowls the fox at night.
5.9k
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
The Luna Moth
The moon does not in fact wax anything,
She does not wane; she simply ever-is;
She rules the softly-sung, soft-summer nights,
A willing queen, and willingly obeyed.
The luna moth, her winged votary,
Clings to indulgent oaks of their kindness,
Their moon-sent goddess from another world,
And strangely robed and crowned in lunar green,
Pheroming softly for some other moth
To come perform with her those rituals
Of love illogical, of sacrifice;
For all a luna moth can do is live
A summer week or so, but in those hours
She loves
In lunar beauty, strangely eternal
Who needs a dying luna moth?
We do.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC
There Is But One Law (The Dancer's Coda)
There is but one set of laws,
One that need be obeyed,
One that brooks no heresy,
One that gives no absolution.
One that needs no priests, no canons,
One that that refuses disobedience.
We all bend knee at altar invisible,
Though feasance never requested.
The Laws of Physics.
A body at rest, a body in motion.
Laws immutable, unconditional,
Equations, proofs, demonstrable,
Inequalities inexcusable, banished.
Dancer says:
I am heretic, even these laws I refuse.
My body denies limitations,
My mind believes I will make do
What it could not, but yesterday.
Defiance from wire to wire is the
Fuel in my veins, fear but a detail,
Leaping from from ten meters more,
My Declaration of Independence.
My body plastic, my mind ethereal,
Some mock, call it trickery,
Some hail, call me hero.
There are forces greater than mine,
Forces irrevocable, mathematically superior.
Each day my force grows as well,
Visions imagined supersede the
Tedium of definitions, of boundary lines.
Bend the law, conquer the null, fill the void.
Each day sketch, devise, organize a
New rebellion, follow only one command,
Honor but a single battle cry.
Leap, then fall!
That dancer, your only law,
That heretic, thine only coda.
Action is freedom.
For you are dancer,
Whisper as you leap:
The Fifth Freedom I possess,
The Freedom to Fall.
May 17th, 2013
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
If you feel the need to demand respect it means giving some of my own self respect
It means you don't respect yourself so in order to make you happy you ask me to respect you
If I give you pieces of my self respect that you can use to feel respected, it will only serve to hurt you and us because it's hollow this way. It will never satisfy that deep need for self respect. Only the self can do that
I can respect you without having to
respect your own personal issues and insecurities
I think somewhere in our society
respect has been twisted to the point
that the people demanding it don't understand that what they really want is to be obeyed.
That is what demanding respect does
If you demand it then it isn't respect at all
It is everything but respect
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
Daddy, I want a puppy she said.
Eyes sparkled as wild diamonds.
Daddy obeyed precious daughters wishes.
Bought a her dog and gave her kisses.
Once he was an adorable puppy, with sloppy tongue and burst of nature.
Then poor sloppy, soppy puppy changed.
Well he didn't if only you knew, his only offence was that he grew.
Suddenly wasn't a cuddly pup anymore.
Shoved alone in the garden.
He ate too much and bought with him bills, needed walking over the hills.
Daddy was tired, and daughter grew too.
Daughter left home the lonely once puppy feels blue.
(C) Livvi
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
He had a habit of forgetting
That the knife should be
At his left,
Unlike others.
Every morning, she would
mechanically
switch the fork with the knife.
When they finished lunch
she started clearing up
and noticed the knife to his right
again.
That night,
after their routine drew to a close,
They talked.
Slowly, at first.
A touchy subject walks in.
It's time.
Even as the air is knocked from her lungs,
She gets up and scrabbles on the floor.
Nails scratching the carpet.
Eyes scanning the horizon, now black.
Her brain decides to get up,
Her body disobeys.
Her body disobeys.
Isn't that what put her here in the first place?
So what if she is pretty?
So what if her eyes are sparkling emeralds?
Her belly renders her defenceless
from his onslaught.
Isn't it her fault
that it is empty?
Isn't she wrong to want
independence from him?
Mentally, physically, emotionally?
He owned her, didn't he?
He owned her, didn't he.
He explained to her the benefits
of obeying.
Her pretty face wouldn't have been
all those ungainly shades of black.
Her eyes wouldn't have been encircled by blue.
All she had to do was obey
and not tell anyone
but obey.
Her brain rebelled.
Her brain rebelled.
Her body, for once, obeyed.
She stumbled through the hallway
She knocked down her favourite frame-
Their daughter on a pony.
Kitchen, her sanctuary.
She broke her favourite China.
Hurled her utensils.
"I arranged them last week, you *****
And then she saw them.
The knives.
The knives.
They were inviting
Her hands were pale, waiting.
His heart corrupt, hating.
"Knives to your left, darling."
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
Return to the ancient path,
the roadmap of greatness,
the elders call must be obeyed,
thoughts of the ancestors is enough,
everything is hidden within it.
It is the beginning of healing
for all of us and our land.
With your ears to the ground,
listen to the secrets offered.
The lone voice heard has a
message for you.
To obey the call means life.
Oh! you children that heard it,
carry it like a fire within you.
Let it burn into your bones.
For your strength lies in it
and can't be taken away.
Your destiny is already shaped
by your culture mixed with their sweat.
The blood of your forefathers
was shed to earn you a place thus far.
Put your ears on the ground to listen
to what they have to say.
Tilt your head and look up for
the sky bear witness to this truth.
The air still sings their music,
even the waters also whispers their songs
for they drank from the same well as you.
The ancient trees in the arena
where they lean their back
stained by their sweats still stands.
The flute and the talking drums
are still calling out their names in
the dark under the moonlight amidst
the people with the elders,
the elements and the stars bearing witness.
My people return to the ancient path
and save yourselves from thunderstorms.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 6:55 PM UTC
CRAZED through much child-bearing
The moon is staggering in the sky;
Moon-struck by the despairing
Glances of her wandering eye
We ***** and ***** in vain,
For children born of her pain.
Children dazed or dead!
When she in all her virginal pride
First trod on the mountain's head
What stir ran through the countryside
Where every foot obeyed her glance!
What manhood led the dance!
Fly-catchers of the moon,
Our hands are blenched, our fingers seem
But slender needles of bone;
Blenched by that malicious dream
They are spread wide that each
May rend what comes in reach.
3k
~~°♡°~~
He had died upon a cross
Three days laid to rest
Women came unto His tomb
With a vision blessed
As they saw the stone was moved
An angel then appeared
*"Why is it you come to seek
A man who is not here?"*
They looked into the tomb and saw
The cavity was bare
The shroud was neatly folded
But Jesus wasn't there!
The joy they felt beatific
When Jesus did they see!
They obeyed His next command
To meet at Galilee
In amazement and some fear
The women ran to others
Proclaimed the news Christ was alive
To the waiting brothers!
And two of the disciples
Did walk to Emmaus
To find the Lord amongst them
Though their eyes they could not trust
When they could see, and found it He
Said, "Our hearts burned within us!"
Then Jesus came, good as His name
To folk who were to wait
He showed his scars, the telltale mars
Sat with them and ate!
He led them up to Bethany
Blessed them all around
They were amazed, with His hands raised
He was lifted from the ground!
Can you imagine trumpeting?
Can you hear the sound?
Could there be it's equal?
In glory to be found?
Jesus rose to heaven
*The clouds were then His
CROWN*
SøułSurvivør
(C) 4/16/2017
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
To strive, for recognition
An assembly point for thought
Triumphed within an open page
Paper evidence of unspoken verse
Retrieved from the place behind this heart
Do you mind?
Don’t look over my shoulder at my vulnerability
Private stance is mine
Do not mock as I turn the page
A personal preview of this unlocked memory
Back of my neck, prickling
Anticipating on the spot reaction
Young, ill at ease
Crying from the yard
Hiding the scars
Don’t rush away the memories, a deluge
When time was so limited
Become brave
Force open the private recess
Cobwebbed and masked by dust
Speak clearly, not from mumbling
Mouth, I need to………….. know
I am blemished
So glad to be alongside you
Reunited, forgotten, forgiven.....now ribbon tied
Can we bury?
It would seem not......but wait and remember
Deceived by the dark
Under dressed for the occasion
Battered suitcase dragged and kicked open
Essays of remembrance
Headlines screaming for discussion
Released for a while
Obeyed and tidied
Press down and close the rusty catches
My new day transcribed here
I don’t mind, lean on my shoulder
See my vulnerability
It makes me strong
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC
Your pale grass colored eyes flickered towards me in the passenger seat;
cigarette out the window
I stare at my ruby colored lips in the side view mirror
You drum your fingers on the wheel to Blue Bossonova
I remember the dream catcher hanging from the mirror catching my eye;
a majestic golden hue from the sunlight reflecting off of it.
We weren't supposed to be driving the car,
We both knew this, but we were rebels
So I had climbed out my window without my parents knowing
ripping my jeans in the process
just to be with you.
Had I known it would be the last time I'd touch you;
Had I known it would be the last time I'd kiss your lips
I would have stayed in my bed
The Shins blaring through my headphones
Thinking about all the things I'm going to do with you
Had I known it would be the last time seeing you smile
The last time hearing you breathe
Hearing you talk
Touching your skin
I would have obeyed my parents rules for once.
Instead of staring at your pretty green eyes
I stare at the pretty headlights coming our way
I feel the car swerve to the left;
the dream catcher falling
The car spinning like a dradle in the air
It was like everything were in slowmotion
As I look over at you in horror
your pale green eyes flicker away from mine
closing as if to say
"I'm sorry."
The car comes to a hault.
You were motionless as we were upside down
Tears fall down my ****** cheeks
I scream at you to wake up;
but you wouldn't
Then I stopped wasting my breath
I stopped
Like your heart
Had I known it would be the last time I'd touch you;
Had I known it would be the last time I'd kiss your lips
I would have stayed in my bed
The Shins blaring in my headphones
because now I'm fantasying about all the things we could have done
About all the things we could have said
like
"You're paying for the electrical bill this time."
or
"I do."
Now I'm stuck listening to Blue Bossonova
blaring in my headphones
thinking about all the things I'd have to do without you
Had I known
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
THERE is grey in your hair.
Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath
When you are passing;
But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing
Because it was your prayer
Recovered him upon the bed of death.
For your sole sake -- that all heart's ache have known,
And given to others all heart's ache,
From meagre girlhood's putting on
Burdensome beauty -- for your sole sake
Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,
So great her portion in that peace you make
By merely walking in a room.
Your beauty can but leave among us
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
A young man when the old men are done talking
Will say to an old man, "Tell me of that lady
The poet stubborn with his passion sang us
When age might well have chilled his blood.'
Vague memories, nothing but memories,
But in the grave all, all, shall be renewed.
The certainty that I shall see that lady
Leaning or standing or walking
In the first loveliness of womanhood,
And with the fervour of my youthful eyes,
Has set me muttering like a fool.
You are more beautiful than any one,
And yet your body had a flaw:
Your small hands were not beautiful,
And I am afraid that you will run
And paddle to the wrist
In that mysterious, always brimming lake
Where those What have obeyed the holy law
paddle and are perfect. Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
2.8k
An angel, fair and pure
Who's heart is fragile and unsecured
Stolen and hurt with no cure
Wounded with hidden clue.
Great pain and sorrow
But tears doesn't follow
Nothing is inside her, a hollow
Now her past follows.
All because of a man
Who she loved and obeyed every command
Gifted him happiness that lasts
Left her with her heart in his hand.
How rude, how unfair
But I give you a dare
Give her eyes a good stare
Then tell me if you ever care...
You can say "how ungrateful he can be?!"
But I tell you, how blind can you be??
If you can't see,
Till this time you read me.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
Laughter laced with fear
Captured among final goodbyes
Cracked and broken fingernails; all that remains
Claw marks on walls
Bodies abandoned for years
Sinking into the deepness of the water
Families without closure
Dreams trapped within an ocean prison
Forever buried in a cold embrace
475 Bodies
171 left with a pulse
The rest consumed in an ocean grave
Students of Danwon High School
Left for a school trip
250 students were left to drown
They could have been saved
They could have escaped
They were told to stay; obeyed
Parents buried children, some with no body
Stood in empty bedrooms
And waited for a miracle that never came
Making empty beds
Trying to undo what’s been done
Losing faith in their nation
One man's selfishness
Took hundreds of dreams
And turned them into debris
As cherry blossoms bloom
Families grieve
Still waiting for a miracle
As cherry blossoms fall
Families fight
For the ones who no longer can
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 6:41 PM UTC
1554
“Go tell it”—What a Message—
To whom—is specified—
Not murmur—not endearment—
But simply—we—obeyed—
Obeyed—a Lure—a Longing?
Oh Nature—none of this—
To Law—said sweet Thermopylae
I give my dying Kiss—
2.3k
He; inexhaustible yet exhausting,
Ruthlessly efficient yet demanding,
Hard working yet withholding,
Barbed
Yet deemed necessary.
Protecting that which
Long ago was made sacred;
The heart, the hearth, the home,
None may touch that hallowed ground.
Defence was needed
Safety paramount
And then...
The years passed...
This ninja warrior endured
Defended
Sliced, hacked, diverted, whirled in endless pirouettes
Of engaged battles
Of mesmerising movement
Of unrelenting actions
Of no consequence
For the mighty goal of protecting
That
Which
Was now all but forgotten.
So effective was his defence
Of the thing called 'home'
That it was hidden from all view
Forgotten
Beneath his whirling dexterity of projects and activities.
The years passed...
And there was no home.
Never did the warrior stop to question his task
That old old command.
He simply obeyed
As a warrior should
And continue
Until his death
To protect the property of his master
The result
a hollow, busy, lonely life,
Punctuated by exhaustion
And the question....
"What's missing? "
But so complete was his defense
So skillful his guard
That none saw what lay beneath.
Too mesmerised by his motions to see that
He was but a distraction
A diversion
From the question which would strike such fear into his masters heart
"What will happen if I stop?"
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
A decade ago
A small child cried
With all his might he tried
But he still lost to Don Bosco
He came and conquered the arena
Along with hundreds of companions
But from his first day began the division
Lachit, Phukan, Bordoloi and Bezbaruah
The teachers dominated him
Homework increased his load
6 hours soon became a bore
The strict discipline frustrated him
He survived only for friendship
Together they defied the rules
To resist he rarely brought his books
With the teachers he created a bitter relationship
The school responded quite effectively
Punishments soon became frequent
Parents were called often
Indiscipline was not tolerated so easily
When he roused to secondary
He realized it wasn't like he had though before
His hatred was no more
He now began to see everything differently
He saw the teacher's love and care
All the hardships they had suffered
He repented those he cursed
So much hardships they had to bare
He changed his attitude
He paid attention in class
He began to get positive remarks
The teachers loved his new look
Not a single favor he denied
Without questions he obeyed every order
To win their love he kept on going farther
For their trust he strived
Finally he got what he wanted
His fame spread among them
Every teacher began to know his name
The boy on whom they could depend
Today he is about to leave Don Bosco
All those memories will just remain as a phase
Never to forget till his last days
Those years seems just like a minute ago
The boy is now a man
He laughs when he remembers those memories
The fun they had will never cease
He knows most won't understand
"No matter how hard you try to learn,
You'll never know the perks of being a Bosconian"
- Swarnabh
6:22 pm, 12/10/13
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
We sit on the edge of conversation
Hands clasped, feet shuffling anxiously
Eyes darting across the room like
the stars in the night sky
You lean back with a sigh
and I catch you.
Hands together, knees bent
fingers touching skin
Tracing outlines of mountains on the map you offer me
You look up from my gaze and a calmness falls across your face
The corner of our eyes don't wonder but meet
Times entangled in the feast before us
I raise a leg and your knee greets my feet.
Waters greet these feet,
Waters that rage on and under us
Washing over our bodies like the light that’s wrapped itself beside us
Bodies become one in the heat of the den that we've made
In the depts we've paid
The depths we've obeyed
The trust we've displayed
Down by the rivers where the whomping willow weeps,
where the waters run ramped, and the wild things wonder
wonder about life, wonder about death
run through your mind son, be absent, be bold
just don’t forget that the water man reaps
reaps in what is sown, sold and told
whispered. whispered like silence on the edge of the wind
the wind that howls through the corner of beauty
there where it stays and sits for a while,
as the man, he stands, waiting watching on duty.
I look back to you, your face changed by the cut of a smile.
A smile.
That smile, that warms my soul like summer breeze,
Wraps me up and takes me in from the cold
You don't even realise, you do it with such ease
You do it now when we're young and you'll do it when we're old.
We sit, once again, as we used to, but more alone
Hands together, fingers crossed, in utter isolation
It’s such a wild thing, wild life that we’ve known
And none of it is ripe for an explanation.
Feet dancing on the edge of contemplation
This information that we use for the source of our meditation
Imagination sparks conversation but also speculation
So, what are we to do when there’s no confirmation?
A shout shuddering in the darkness of creation
Thinking of the combination, representation and motivation for these words when all I ever wanted was a simple conversation.
Jan 1, 2022
Jan 1, 2022 at 12:13 PM UTC
I will never regret holding your hand
How can I regret something I once wanted so bad
And if you think the broken memories and promises are collateral damage then you are wrong
I never asked you for love poems or songs
All I wanted was to hold your hand and when I did it felt like thousands of tiny sun splashes were dancing in my eyes my lips and oh my god my thighs
I will never regret because regret in this case is weak
It would defy and soil the what seemed like a bright future
Yes I do not regret but that does not mean the fights were something I looked forward to
The Godzilla like monster I turned into every time you would crawl under my skin because you knew oh you knew
You knew that I liked tea with milk and if you step on my foot I will have to step on yours
You knew too much and yet nothing at all because that’s what it was supposed to be
We would go on yelling sprees over specks of dust
But in everything we did there was a lingering presence of lust and with that always an element of mistrust
It would gnaw on my nerves and rip out cords of my patience
The necessity to repeat, repeat, repeat the conversations made them looooong and tedious
And somehow we didn’t notice how it became so serious
And when we became ignorant we started to fade
Slowly but surly we obeyed the laws of disappearing
One missed call, two unread text messages, three kisses from a stranger
And just like that you disappear.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
As a child I was told to take shelter in a storm.
"Wait for danger to pass, where it's safe and it's warm."
Was the plea sent down wet steps and the outmatched door
To chase my staccato strides.
I'd lose it, if I could help it,
In puddle waves and wind-whipped tides
Over rocky shores and steep divides
Then stroll down the lane with thunderstorms n' hurricanes.
While the sky cracked with tension and the red oaks strained,
I never felt small nor ever afraid,
Of the forceful rumbles their limbs obeyed,
I felt alive n' emboldened by every squall
Raised higher and higher by the climatic cure-all
Until I could meet it face to face n' eye to eye
And hold its gaze, as though it were mine,
Until the blackened-beaten town and the next day's fight
Seemed bold but inviting, a blinding light.
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 11:03 AM UTC
In a room full of emptiness I was sitting on my bed with my back resting against the wall. All my routine work was completed before time as usual and there I was sitting doing nothing, staring straight ahead on the wall which was colored blue. I had asked them to do so because I loved this color since it always exuded the stress in me, drained off the disturbing thoughts and opened gates for blissful ones. But they never came.
What came to conquer me was lostness. This lostness maybe is productive if one is lost in a good thought, or, in a world of the past or the future, or, in his own created world, creative or perhaps destructive or perhaps peaceful. But I was always lost in a blank world. A world, where nothing existed. A world where no one walked on the streets. A world where no music was played and due to that I couldn't imagine myself dance because of which I couldn't make new dance steps. A world where I couldn't see faces smiling, where colors existed in their pure mixed form, that is White.
But if I give a second thought, I am thinking all this, about what it feels to be blank.! So it shows I just used to think ******* when this beautiful world of blankness came to me where I can create whatever I want and whatever I like, where miracles can happen. Or maybe a world will take birth to be cradled in my thoughts showing me my desires, aims or maybe those facts that are necessary for me. All I needed was Concentration. But I didn't know how to do so. My brain was now an expert, a trained and professional one in being frivolous. And then I felt a pen fidgeting with my hand. Then my hand, with the help of the reflex sent by the brain who, this time, obeyed the conscience inside it, started translating the thoughts into words. Words, they always betrayed me before when I took their shelter. But that was my fault. I only took shelter widout any hint of giving them respect. But now as the two best friends, my hand and pen, were trending together to make history, these words had the tone of pride while residing themselves on paper, and their look was inspiring when read successively. A guilt always resides in me for the precious time I wasted being lost, but the content of overcoming that lag progressively always consoles the insides. Concentration is all you need for anything you want to do or have in your life. Beginner I am, but, I dont want to see the end. I would just like to enhance it as much as possible.
MH
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC