Once a girl, feeling too much.
Barely able to cope with her anxiety.
The unending feeling of disaster haunting her waking moments, setting the mood for the day.
Unable to stand the constant fright.
A pill to dull the fear and unending doom.
But she changed, learning and becoming stronger.
No longer needing something to dull the thoughts, she is strong enough to try again.
Emotions rushing in like water rushing over a broken dam.
Who is this girl so different from years of numbness?
Is this the girl who she had once been?
Feisty, headstrong, organized, with the attention span of a squirrel, and sensitive?
Words seem to fail me when I try to explain how I feel.
The feeling of being so close to my natural personality.
The feeling of having emotions and not being numb.
Now a girl learning herself again.
butterflies nature
flowers freedom love and peace ~
seeking enlightment
garland of flowers
hair wind tangled, wild and free
beads and bell bottoms _
a blue volkswagon beetle
my ride . . . adventure
Once a whale spent a day at the beach,
eating one too many pies of peach.
Became bloated in the sun,
to a weight over a tonne,
now has an itch she can't bend to reach
I was once a window, a gateway to the unbounded light of the sky,
Through which rays danced like spirits in the midst of a clear night,
The moon bowed to whisper to me the secrets of stars forgotten by time,
And people looked through me, their eyes full of dreams and hidden longings,
Each gaze was a thread of a story I wove in silence,
But then they began to fear my clarity, the light that shone,
What I let in and what I revealed without asking permission,
So they came with bricks of silence and words heavy as lead.
At first, it was a curtain of shadow, then a plank of forgetfulness,
Then they began to tell me I was too much, too open, too fragile,
And stone by stone, I was walled in a silence of stone,
Not broken, but hidden under a veil of frozen memories,
Not destroyed, but locked in a world where light no longer penetrates,
Now I hear the light as a distant whisper, an echo of the past,
I remember warmth as a song lost in the wind,
People pass by me, forgetting I was once a window,
But I still remember, and my soul still longs,
For the endless sky and the light that sang my name.
Principles don’t discriminate against age,
biggest is not always the wisest choice
- personal biases
night skinnydipping
eternal love of summer
moon-cast memories
Once a year
in the early spring
I scatter some reclaimed
seeds
from a section of yard
where the wild flowers grow --
a reserved place, there
left unattended
how they bloom, all on
their own
where the wild flowers
bloom,
a welcome to early bees
and butterflies
the old black cat seems to like
them as well
a nestled, deadly shadow, all comfy
in a lap of blazing, garnished nature
stroked by the southerly
tempering breeze
God! he has such allergies,
the poor little beast's, watery
eyes...
yet, every year
while I scatter
he seems to dream
faithfully
Lucifer, scourge of mice!
for a budding' moment, exculpated!
as a wand, my magician' hand
glides over the the future
materialized bed
seeding memories
long gone but not forgotten
when I was also omnipotent
demurely purring
one of the wild flowers
heedless of seasons
and the sentence of time --
Santa and wife dress in sexy gear
Their gift to each other once a year
The air turns electric blue
With antics they get up to
And moans and groans ring out loud and clear.
Santa’s work is done, it's time to rest
Yet his rest time, is time of the best
He is in fine festive cheer
Time to spend with her so dear
Who’s now swinging from the chandelier.
. . . Dont Trouble Young! Oh!
You Got It In Stream Of Blood
Thats Everlasting! . . .
Sweet Mary you’re such a delight
beautiful on this starry night
A vision for sure
You are quite demure
Can I be your captive White Knight?
On a chilly late December’s morn,
we praise the day our savior was born,
by placing a bunch of toys underneath a tree.
It seems like we’ll never reach the end,
of just how much money we will spend,
trying to buy a place to spend eternity.
We will say we went to church to pray,
but when all the people looked away,
we were on our cell phones trying our best to sin.
We will ask God to please forgive us,
as we continue with our business,
so that on Monday, we can do it all again.
Celebrate,
celebrate having known her,
her shallow depth and deep cold-heartedness
the seriousness that was ever there,
the facade, the pump and pain.
Celebrate the knowledge you are privileged to share,
with your family and friends, knowledge through unsavory remembrance.
Justice is but a walking shadow,
always whispering high tide, fresh bread.
And I have to yell back, no pennies, Prima Donna!
Memory Was Once A Moment
A moment is present, but a memory is past.
A moment is transient, but a memory is permanent.
A moment is relative, but a memory is absolute.
A moment is lived, and a memory is created.
A moment is a fleeting ray of sunshine, warmed by the praise of others and a memory is when you're praised by yourself.
A moment can be destructive or delightful, but a memory is always teary.
Winning is a moment. Losing is a moment, but learning is a memory.
A moment is a step, a memory is the path.
A moment includes you, and a memory includes a lot of moments.
A moment is a victory, and a legacy is marked by memory.
Time once gone is gone forever, and so the moments leaving the memories as small moments in life make up a beautiful memory.
"Live every moment of your life to the fullest to make your life an astounding memory."
Once upon a time, I was mushroom
I think I was elegant as mushrooms go
I had a grand head and a justly strong toe
I stood tall amongst my mushroom friends
noble and as bold as I could be
I gave free shelter to the little things
and comfort to the seedling tree
I am told that I had beautiful variegations
and did my best to grow
encouraging all the other mushrooms
that ever I did know
It was hard sometimes being a mushroom
in a forest of beautiful pine
even the rocks seemed superior
when we like children, stood in line
Let's face it being a mushroom
isn't as big or filled with granite as a Rock
but that's why I always tried to keep it kind
and never be the one to mock
I try to be gentle and cover lichen, moss, and mites
especially on all of those rainy wild and windy nights
So if you come upon me holding fast to the darkest soil
I would greatly appreciate your stopping
to admire me for a while
But then if you could step over me
instead of squishing me into the ground
I will hold you in the highest stead
and speak of you with renowned
Asked for a real gift from above
wrapped in red from head to toe with love
She belief, it can't be wrong
this is where I belong
impiety from a little dove
16.12.2022
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
A Funny Santa Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
3rd place in the contest
* Inspired by the song :
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
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