The power of your words
Can bind a heart or can break it into two
Can create happy memories or painful ones
Can build you up or break you down
Can bridge the gap or make a wide
Your words will reveal your heart.
Your words are the only real wealth that you own
They will draw up the Balance Sheet of your Life
Your Assets and Liabilities.
Each person is sailing through
the Heaven and Hell of his emotions
Words said and left unsaid.
Let’s not be victims of Life but creators of Life
But when all love disappears maybe its time to just start loving yourself.
He came with dust upon his coat,
The sun behind him dying red,
And in his voice the echo hung
Of lands where ancient dreams lie dead.
He spoke of seas with lilac skies,
Of stars that sang above the foam,
Of gardens lost beyond the years—
And none of it was home.
He told me tales of lovers pale
Who wept beneath a foreign moon,
Of bells that rang through ghostly towns
At dusk, and not too soon.
His eyes were dark with memories
No fire could ever warm again,
And when he left, he left behind
The silence of a thousand men.
I watched the night draw up its hood—
And somehow, understood.
Spontaneous me adores retirement
Daily I resolve to make no plans
I do not get into a car, I drive nowhere
My husband loves to shop, so he does the shopping
I do not do the laundry
I do not vacuum
I do not clean tar off the couch
My husband loves to clean, so I let him
I crawl into my turtle shell
Draw up my feet,
My phone is off
Outside communication is not possible
Unless I turn it back on.
I do that when I want to, if I want to
My time is my own
For me and no one else
Ideas take me hither and yon
In my world of imagination
I do nothing I do not want to do
Ask my husband
Toiling around the town I grew up in. Never knew there was another way. My footsteps followed those before, keeping my ship anchored at bay. Staring out on the horizon and noticing far off lands in the distance. Dreaming about a journey, but couldn't fathom risking my existence.
Maybe I can draw up a plan to get out there and discover. Stepping outside my comfort zone to see what I uncover. It's time to set sail and swing open a new door to unearth what I've been waiting to explore.
New York times and Washington post, better watch
The reports in the columns you host, keep within any
Remit, for the wokesters wish to poke' specially those in
The big-house, who'll treat as serious any old joke'
Don't be tilting at thir windmills, or landing any clouts'
Being negative on e v's like 'just asking about? How
They go real dead in winter, blow a fuse in deeper floods'
Keep burning on' though fire brigade extinguishers run out
How their weight causes pot-holes how they belt hard other
Cars, that they're becoming liabiltys in the world
And here; both near and far.! Far be it from you to truth tell
Just remain within the lies..Keep on massaging those figures.'
All those 'old lockdown blighs' cause you really don't matter
Or your families and friends, you bury the corpses and
Press freedom.' even the intents.' You'll be part of the problem'
And you'll pay so very dear, when they draw up all the rules
Then you'll know.. 'you once; were free' free to save many
People and countries..The many lands you have sold out..You'll
Be colouring the pavements, fir there your talent you will tout.'
TIME MANAGEMENT
I did a jig when I was small
When he told me to dance.
He’d clap his hands,
Small thick hands,
Breakfast sausage fingers,
Clean, white-moony fingernails,
Against my soft-sided hide,
Made suede from his leather
Of depravity and shame
They made a lot of noise,
Those clapping hands, and
With a red face, red nose,
His red eyes veined with lies
And vodka, would
Draw up at the corners in a
Half leer, half killer’s smile
So sly - he knew he had me;
He’d not be found out.
‘Twas just biding his time.
As she lay back on the bed
She gave herself away
With hands pinned to the bed
It was time to blow her mind away
In between the strokes she'd grasp for air
It's like she was drowning in the moment
Cause with every stroke she'd exclaim
And you could hear her call for her Savior
I don't know if she's that religious
Or its because I got her seeing heaven
Cause her head is in the clouds her eyes closed
And both her lips are moist and warm
The bed is steady with my flow
And all the sounds are slurping
And clapping of cheeks
And the room now wafts our passion
In between the sways of the hip
And the magical dance we've been into
We in flow that even if our phones ring
No one is picking cause we already tied up
When we both out of breath
She'll rest by my chest
And draw up how I made her feel in the inside
As she describes all the spots I hit right
And when the night slowly wanes away
We'd go a few more times
Till I put her to sleep when she smiles
Cause that's when I know she's had enough
The PO£T
There is a peaceful sound
That comes from a deep place within
When the high desert winds
Blow and ruffle and sting
Stilling the soul becomes an artform
The painting of azure blue
On the hot canvas of trauma
Sealing it's cooling aura in-situ
Centre down, take control
Close out the world acting so scarily
Remember the deep well of truth
Draw up the fresh water momentarily
Drink deep of the calm crystal clear
To feel the lying hurricane of fear
Lose it's false power
Become free and your true self again
As the lightening rolled across the sky
My pain began to amplify
Alone I'd sit trying not to cry
Attempting to remain dignified
I use to believe it was because of the storm
That the lightening made the sorrow form
As the chaotic elements gathered and swarmed
The thunder came as if it warned.
Of days to come full of tension.
Of ways and words never mentioned.
A tangled up web of desention
Mistakes made without comprehension
The ache that made my arms draw up.
The startled gasp as thunder erupts.
The seering pain from loss was abrupt.
Thoughts and memories it would interrupt
As the storms passed and the pain withdrew
My heart ached was black and blue.
For all the days and nights that you never knew
That the storms I weathered, I weathered because of you.
The well of blessing
be clear and open.
Every day
May we go to the well,
Let drop our weathered
bucket of life,
to be filled anew,
Then draw up its sweet
joy of grace and being
and drink,
Knowing that for today,
All we need
will be there for us.
Words can foster friendship
Words can create enemies
Words can trigger disputes
Words can help settle them
Words can spread terrorism
Words can counter the threat
Words can launch an offensive
Words can be a defensive tool
Words can incite attacks
Words can repulse them
Words can issue commands
Words can inspire control
Words can draw up plans
Words can execute them
Words can spark off a war
Words can negotiate peace
Words are the most powerful tools
They can do anything in this world
So, choose your words carefully
And, use them sensibly…
Mind your language!
my hands work so hard
invaluable
and dependable
I need them daily
for every hobby
they like to paint
they can type too
garden and paint
draw up cartoons
amazing
marvelous
right and left
hand one
hand two
great!
As we are mortal
and maybe even
if we weren’t, we
travel through
this one way
dimension
nanosecond
by
nanosecond
until we
aren’t anymore.
Although you don’t
have to be Einstein or
traveling at lightspeed
to know time is relative
sometimes going so slowly
other times passing too fast.
But I’d give one of my back
molars (which itself is feeling
the effects of time) for a time out.
Not the stand in the corner kind which
our parents gave us unruly children, but
rather a basketball type of time out where
everything stops and coach can draw up
the buzzer beater that will win the game.
But that’s all fantasy and excuse me if I
get a bit Buddhist, but we all know that
the past is gone and the future yet to come
we live in the now.
Enjoy.
.
don’t weep. we won’t surrender you on this dilapidated dance floor. we will reconstruct it into a sky that will not squirm. its guardian will be of your crop. we will be the spirits that will yield blood for your tranquility. our minds will accept this pandemic and sections will disappear. nobody will realize how great they should have remained. a parachute will break your loss. go on, little one, conceive those daydreams. the earth cluttered with our remains will attend over you. no mischief will appear to you.
we will draw up arms and overthrow the pagan vampire that is autocracy. its assault will be but fables, flying before the years develop. the hijacker will expire in shackles, millions will lament, rifles will blow, capitals will ignite. airbourne joy will torrent the invasion, the whirlwind that captures my life will recover yours.
i will stand my history in your palms, be delicate with the mass, golden stars will be on your screens. read the message, behold the ground, envelop the tombstones. the karats are the weight, controlled by the painting of your forthcoming. i will stare on to you and your triumph, sweet boy. we will not let you, nor will we dig the tunnels.
The river’s not really a river
‘Cause water can flow either way.
Right now it is tumbling downtown.
Tomorrow? I simply can’t say.
The jet skiers seem not to mind much;
The same for each tugboat or ferry.
I wonder if they’re all aware that
They’re riding a brisk estuary.
When mapmakers draw up their pictures,
Simplicity’s what they deliver.
It’s hard to say East Estuary,
So that’s why it’s called the East River.
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