Dearest writer,
Use me for a just and right cause,
Let the ink in me never pause,
I am here to help you fight,
With peaceful force and our might,
To see that issues are brought to the light,
So that chaos and corruption are set right.
Yes, reading what I help you write,
Will cause panic and fright,
And for some, extreme delight,
Because together we bring insight!
Your Sincere Friend
Pen
Copyright © by Crystal David John
Dear thought police. I hope this finds
You in a reflective moid.? respectfully
assertain the words i
Convery, were wafted into my brain.'
They being thoughts..Ideas? Given
By God ! i just deliver them to other
Silly sods.' I advise you pay attention
As its Him who will be issuing your
Eternal residence and pension.' I'm
Just another one..Who can be silly as
They come.' So do not create and point
At me.' Rather find Jesus and become
Completley free.'
Last night when I went to bed
I thought about what I had said...
I was wrong,
so I sat down an wrote a letter...
your my love an only love
I want to go back as before...
knowing it won't be long till your...
sweet lips will cerass mine once more
oh my darling, can't you see
I need your love to eternity
I'll be true - so to say - to say- I love you dearly
is far better than just two words
YOURS FOREVER
It's hard to smile. It hurts to laugh.
I'm dead inside, yet burning on fire.
I'm all alone, you left me here…
Alone in my thoughts, alone in my fears.
Look at me, mom, and this daughter of mine.
I wish you could know her, there just wasn't time.
She takes after me with her fits and her pouts.
She is beautiful, mom… inside and out.
So here we are, my daughter and I, both hurting, yet healing and helping each other get by.
dear heavenly father,
since the day i was born
you have been there,
every time i feel alone
you hold me close,
when i walk through
a valley and i am afraid
to go alone,
you carried me in
your arms where no
harm could ever
befall me,
dear heavenly father
you are love perfected
since the beginning of time,
thank you father for
loving me unconditionally.....
Babe, I haven't seen you since 1989.
Maybe I'm paranoid
Cuz I'm full of Methane
And the other planets
Think I'm a joke.
Negative 340 degrees Fahrenheit,
Twelve hundred mile and hour winds,
They think I'm out of touch.
Cold, dark, and bitter.
We have 16 hour days.
24 feels excessive.
It takes us 165 Earth years to orbit the sun
What's the big rush?
Look, Babe, I could talk till I'm blue in the face
Due to my methane gas
Absorbing red light
And reflecting blue light,
But I'm exhausted.
So I'll keep this short.
I got 5 rings.
I got 16 moons.
8 of which
I'm still on speaking terms with.
The days are short but the years are long.
I hope you come back soon.
1989 feels like a long time ago.
Your icy, icy baby,
Neptune.
A tinted rainbow smeared with blood
On its surface lies the bodies of youth devoured by guns
Guns aimed at them by the same people who were meant to protect them
46 years later we are still fighting the same battle as the class of 76
But now the narrative has changed
Instead of fighting against being taught in a language we don’t understand
The fight is against fees and black on black oppression
Please forgive mama that they didn’t tell you when you were voting in 1994 that you were voting for your grandkids and great grandkids to be unemployed
Please forgive me sir that they didn’t tell you ukuthi you were voting for your kids to be working at a carwash with a Masters degree
I am sorry that they didn’t tell you, you were voting for black-on-black oppression
Hey little girl.
Upon hearing what teenage you had to go through, you gaped
On realizing how bold I’ve become, I gasped.
I want you to know that it is okay.
If I had to say something to you about where I am today
It would be who knew.
Who knew that you would be depressed at the age of 13
Stuck between being emotional and emotionless.
Who knew you would discover the power in forgiveness at the age of 18?
Who knew you would master the art of letting go at the age of 19?
Deep wounds heal but leave permanent scars.
And I live with an inedible image of battles I had fought
Till this day 5-year-old me who had dreams and a fairy-tale life planned still lives
You still live at the back of my mind; I still hear your voice
Reciting all your dreams like you did at 5
I wrote this letter to let you know that I am setting teenage you free, I am finally allowing her to heal.
Strange what fickle thoughts trickle through the space behind my eyes
Behind those wry windows through which you see far too deeply
Past the vanity that clouds my judgement when my soul is on fire in ways no other burn could comprehend
That fire which ravages all that is soft and pretty, which softens that which is hard with grief
For part of me was razed when we spoke for the second, first time. That sallow and bitter part birthed from the loss of one to whom I will always be devoted
This forgotten and found again scorching of the soul is painful in ways impossible to describe
But not for a second would I think to change it
Silver sentiel, silent sphere,
You've orbited through every year.
Your face a map of time's own gleam, Reflecting
every human dream. The lover's sighs, The warriors plight, Bathed in your impartial light.
You ask no questions, offer no reply.
Just watch ages flutter by. I imagine you listening, Your face a soft gleam. Reflecting the fragments of my waking dream. I wish for a garden, where colors can riot, and time is worthwhile. Not of Earth, but of star dust, a landscape unseen. Where thoughts take their form, vibrant and keen. With my thoughts in a whirl, I imagine a companion, someone who sees patterns in the dust motes that fly. And finds their own music in a lullaby.
Do you think wishes sent upwards, have anywhere to go? Or are they just echoes, that fade and than cease, Lost in the vastness, finding no peace? Moon, you are a pale disc, hung high serene, A silent observer, a cosmic queen.
Anna found herself writing this to Marcus for a reply.
Dearest Marcus Sire
I find myself penning this letter to you.
I know why.
From ever since I can remember looking back,
it wasn’t a happy childhood,
Verbal, physical and mental abuse.
It wasn’t a one off it was consistent.
It wasn’t just one person was it; it was the whole family.
I don’t know how I survived that abuse.
Yet I will never forgive them.
They used me as a servant.
Closing all doors for me.
I’ll bide my time I used to think.
No one would believe the damage they did to me.
Now that I left them, they still try to follow me and I ignore them.
I pretend that I care.
Them with your problems of the world doing it to them.
They thought no one will spread the word of what they were.
Mum and dad and family.
Now I spend my time laughing at you.
Wouldn’t help you if you were in deepest hell.
Today I Find joy in the smallest things.
There’s hope, yes there is.
Waiting for your reply.
A letter from your shadow:
We’ve been together for awhile now,
I think it's time for me to share my rant.
Why do you tremble when you speak?
It’s like sometimes you don’t even think.
You walk into things, careless of your surroundings,
And you’ve never seemed to be whats called “normal”,
Always standing out in the most awful ways.
Your hair dye was cool at first,
But now you do it after any minor inconvenience,
And im really starting to hate it.
You can’t ever decide what hair type you want,
straight , curly, bushy, or bald,
And quite frankly you’ll look just as horrible any way.
You have that god awful habit of biting your nails,
Do you like the way they taste,
Or are they just an escape?
I really hope you start to change,
im not sure how much more of your
“Temper tantrums”
I can take.
Sincerely, your shadow.
Dear God, please tell me what I’ve done
For you to rain blessings on me
When I woke up this morning, I kissed someone
But, I forgot to pray to thee
I prepared breakfast, then boasted of the taste
And filled my belly, as well as my face
I threw out good proportions, oh what a waste!
I never took the rime to even say my grace
Sunday came; I made it through another week
Tribulations have silenced my spirit
So, in bed I lay so to speak
I had a chance; yet I went to a dance
So, I’m too tired to worship today
Many moons have come and gone
Another opportunity I should embrace
Oh God forgive me, for this is my song
I pray that I never fall from your grace
a letter to my editor
I have tried to get more cash to spend
on introducing me to a bigger audience
I contacted many of my readers on X and asked for
A contribution sent to Hillshire will not come
amiss so far nothing.
I could have asked the man himself, but I will not
He suffers from the insecurity that rich people
People who suffer from that, we like them for the money
I happen to like Elon Musk because he struggles
with a deep-seated shyness like my brother did
So his life is not that easy
So, therefore, just print the en book and send
a couple of copies to me, I shall be nothing more
than mulch in the acre of poetry
I am reaching out to you
Because I could not stop it
How have you been?
I have been missing you
Hope you have been missing me too.
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