To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Many times, I saw my spirit.
Many times, I felt my soul.
In life, I lived courageous.
Now it is time for me to journey home.
If you cry, that is fine.
If you laugh, that is better than a cry.
Rejoice in my life and shout praise.
For I am
Therefore, I shall be
In peace, I leave this world.
To my love ones, I am with the Lord.
Sure happy to have lived
Not sad that my time has come
The benevolence of the spiritual realm is a breeze from a waterfall.
The Lord is my keeper.
He called me home.
No more sadness let us all rejoice.
Ms. Carrie Mae Sexton is now reunited with Jehovah God Lord. A woman of statue...
A woman of worth... All that knew her will truly miss her.
Never a life lost but one done with the world and because she walked a virtuous path, her life is shown. The Lord knows best and we must know the same. Our mother sojourns and in peace, she lays.
[“Be assured that just as an hour is only part of a day so life on Earth is only part of eternity.” C.L. Allen]
User Name: Verlena
Psuedonym: Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Motif: Grief and Bereavement
-Contest Enter: Space & Time - Metaphorically written... Eternity is space and time... February 2014
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
this flower bed,
is just for you.
Among the stone,
and in the mud,
a flower shone,
a beautiful bud.
It grew so tall,
proud and strong,
it learned all,
right and wrong.
Giving it water,
and warm sun,
your only daughter,
learned about fun.
Mommy come see,
look what I did,
now I can be,
a grownup kid.
This flower bed,
is just for you,
with roses, red,
and violets, blue.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
I do not know?
Little bird, what ails thee
is it the bread in your belly
little bird, what troubles thee
is it the bread of misery
is it the bitterness in your heart,
or the offense you can't forgive
is it the anguish that sets you apart,
or the hurt that holds you captive
is it the cancer of bitter love,
or the loss of deserved affection
is it the cruel withdrawal of
his tenderness and compassion
life is much too brief
and youthful love's even briefer still,
your forestalled relief
keeps you from seeing His eternal will
what befalls you
is neither unshared nor a mystery
God sheds tears for you
in the midst of your painful agony
little bird, what ails thee
is it the bread in your belly
little bird, what troubles thee
is it the bane of misery
Is my life not tortured enough for you to see?
I am broken as can be.
My heart is torn.
My tears stain these perfect floors.
Why are singing with glee?
Why do you not care about my every plea?
I am trapped in your arms.
I am the hopeless moth.
How did you pick me?
What is it that you see?
A girl untouched by life?
A flower blooming in the desert?
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.
"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one.
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed.
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent.
A meager thought
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows,
Save Me From Myself
I was tangled inside your words to the point I knew once I tried to escape I’d be broken.
Could you have eve imagine how damaged I was once I escaped it was more then what I could have bare. Soon I became deranged and trapped inside myself not able to feel not even your ray of light could pull me from the darkness I had formed to shield myself.
Be proud are you not? This was all your doing and now I must live on knowing that I am no longer sane, yet yearning for you with every breathe I take. Who will be my knight in shining armor for it were never you, or shall I be forced to save myself from myself? Once trap in tangled of lies ad deception escaping just to find out everything that had happen was all my own fault. Should I be saved or should I be left to kill myself slowly.
It more then enough poison in the world to destroy my body, but not the broken soul which now know no safety. Don’t bring me back to this world for I wish to be saved. So I shall wander through time ad space until I am at peace. Save me my knight from what’s eating me, hurting me, killing me to the point I’m unrecognizable. Save me for I am selfish, destroyed, conceited, and without a purpose. Who shall be my knight in shining armor? I’ll be waiting for you, save me from the darkness that I call myself.
The phone call went badly, again -
the old arguments about ego & neglect
and how you didn’t love me, not really.
And the weeping.
At 50, she was still stuck,
repeating the same accusations.
“The damage, the damage you caused.”
She didn’t want her mother to think
she’d come through it unscathed.
Not ever. She’d worked too hard to
become something she wasn’t,
someone must be to blame.
She was so clever, so clean, so intelligent -
how could she be so unhappy?
The unformed artist weighed down
by someone else’s baggage.
When her artist/mother said:
You have to work with it, use it, create with it,
she howled: “Stop talking over me.”
It was like saying get rid of yourself.
Knowing herself that well,
she hardly knew what she was.
Winter winds blow all around.
I’m astonished by the sounds of Jingle Bells and reindeer stomps.
All of this should never stop.
Snow lies on the ground, if only that weren't too profound.
Time only leads to decay, but not on Christmas, not today.
You should see the angels pray.
Toy trains, and rag dolls are the things kids used to want.
But time has changed, yes so have children…
Santa seems as if a villain.
So much fighting, so much crying, it sounds as if the kids are dying.
“I want money, I want fame, and these toys are just so lame.”
But that’s the product we provided.
Second chances are no more, Santa’s plot we wait for.
He’s sick of this, he doesn't care, it’s as if he’s not wanted here.
He gets ready to take it all back….
There’s still one toy left in his sack, it’s for a little girl, half a world away.
Now how could he have missed this, on the perfect Christmas day?
He turns around, not time for war.
This toy, the girl is waiting for… It’s not a toy like you’d expect.
She didn't ask for electronics, or stupid games such as Sonic.
She just wanted one small thing…
She’s waiting for something EXTRA special this gloomy day.
In a bed she sits and stares, at the window near a chair.
She’s so weak, and all alone.
She doesn't even have a real home, not where there are bright lights anyways.
They've decorated a weeping willow, the only tree around the “home”.
So she has lights to see.
It’s Christmas after all, but there’s no way to calm the raging sea.
She’s dying, it won’t take much longer, and she doesn't care about the tree.
She needs a new heart extra bad.
So, Santa’s bringing her the one thing, that will stop her parents from being sad.
He rushes to the hospital in his golden sleigh, and climbs right down the vent,
He’s saving Christmas today.
Santa rushes in just in time, finds a doctor, the girl is dying.
It’s not what he usually does, but he stays and watches as they save her life.
He waits for her to wake up.
“Santa, you saved my life, oh thank you so much! I needed my heart to be touched.”
He just smiles, and kisses her hand. He’s so glad he didn't destroy the land.
Christmas is still a special day.
There’s no more sorrow, no, not today. Santa smiles though some are still ungrateful.
There’s that one child, standing in the snow, her life can now be started in the evening glow. That’s life for the grateful, loving, caring, and the thankful. Most of the time Santa just gives toys. For all the good girls and boys. But not today, and not tomorrow, once a year he gets rid of sorrow. So sleep tight and say your prayers, Christmas time is but once a year.