Everyone wants a piece of me…
that’s what a large part of life
is. Wife, children, friends and
neighbors – little love bites for
attention~ the cats. And what
matters most, at the end of a
day, a life? – instead of left whole
I would rather have been fondly
portioned out, a good taste left on the sampling
palates of acquaintances. Relationships are
more triangles than circles...a
few pointed edges, pricked as
we navigate attractions. In my geometries
at the center real hearts....
Squares not pointed enough,
and circles rather boring.
Pieces are portions and portions
once an entire pie. Apples,
cinnamon and lots of brown sugar --
what the heck! Sweets are great
preservatives…. Maybe in charge
of bakeries my destiny if flavorful
decadence occasionally allowed in
the Here-after? I mean, if castles
and pavement of gold, why not pastries?
Do dentists ever make it to heaven?
How did this happen again?
With the moonlight streaming through the window,
I am yet again wide awake and distraught about
my life circumstances, but I refuse to be still and tolerate
unkindness and abuse, so I chose to change my circumstances
When grief numbs you, sometimes it is easier to put up with
being treated badly than step out and stir things up to bring
changes, but I am proud of myself for taking the steps
to change my situation and hopefully my nights will become
more peaceful after I gather the pieces of my worklife
and patch them together again in a different situation
with much prayer, bravery that I don't really feel,
and the presence of God who has not left my side!
You ask for the stars
But I give you the moon
Seemingly that's what you'll choose
Scattered around, Yet still in place
Only I know, you love the chase
But oh my mistake
Quiet you is pretty you
Social you is not you
All I want is to count the blues
if you'll join me, but you wouldn't
Tell me how Oh tell me how
I'd give my all, yet you wanted more
I gave you more but it wasn't enough
Then I realized I wasn't the one
Broken pieces on the ground
Made to look like you
Only I'm able to figure out
Why you do what you do
You could've chose me
But you didn't
Running through the woods
Like you'll miss it
Counting the stones
Like it's given
But you didn't choose me
You didn't
He is the poems I write
The solace I seek
He is my reason to wake up
And my reason to stay in dreams
The reason I smile
When I wake up
And the mess in my heart
In which I am forever stuck
He is all of that
And a whole lot more
And maybe my feelings will never see
The light of the day
But loving him was not a chore
It was something I chose
Without knowing the end
Everyday
And the pieces i glue back together
After loving him is the cost
But they say
It's better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
Oil from the mount of olives, used on charlies pate..Stories below in Windsor
Jeanette Archer tells, of child torture,
Murder, and rape.' Maria Farmer also does
Fiona Barnet, they do not budge.' Virginia
Roberts, got paid much..But still she died
Maybe over such? Maggie Oliver, Jon Wedger knows Kevin Annett we hear and on it goes, anthony kidman and daughter
nichole along with epstein and maxwell all
Had their roles..The F B I swore they knew
Nothing.? And with marmalade
sandwiches i think -old lizzie did quite some
bluffing?'
Now back to Isreal and olive oil..Which old
lizzie also wore.' With treasure and spoils.'
And the stone of David.? That they sit upon
Link so much to Isreal.? Its a think a thon.!!
Trump with his kipper and biden and
the rest and death rape and torture.? Hmmm.?
What do you address.? (The era of con-vid?) And your violation.? We were a pagan
Sacrifice in all the nations ( were you told never to speak i'll ?) Of its reign.? Safe and effective you could only gain.' And the groves you will worship, under all things masked.' As you revel in serfdom..And await satans mark.?
The thorns wrap ’round my neck with silent might,
Their crimson touch a truth I cannot feign;
Cold waves rise up and cage my fading light,
A tempest stirring deep inside my pain.
Exhaustion wears my fingers to the bone,
I watch them fall like hours I can’t reclaim;
In quiet ruins, I lie all alone,
My body aging faster than my name.
A father sneers, a mother breaks in cries,
While others turn from all they think I lack;
They leave me drowning under quiet skies,
Still praying for a breath to pull me back.
Yet here I stay—beneath the storm I dread—
Still fighting off the weight inside my head.
My heart has been broken
Into a million pieces
And I thought that
I wouldn't survive
I was almost broken
But with time and prayer
I manage to put the pieces
Back together again and
Guard it carefully
I too felt somewhat broken,
you came along and gave me strength.
You picked up the pieces
and put me back together
more beautiful than I had ever been.
And, my heart oozed with serene happiness,
the kind that grows from finding wisdom.
AP: 1st place 2026, 1st place 2026
I CANNOT HAVE NO MORE PIECE OF MY HEART THAT MAY BE BROKEN BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP.
IT'S ALREADY CRUMBLING OF ITS LAST...
AND SOON, THERE WILL BE NOTHING LIFE LEFT.
(JUST MY THOUGHTS)
Everyone takes a piece of me until there is nothing left
P
i
e
c
e
s
My life and career
Shredded before my sad eyes
No one cares but me
Picking up the pieces
Hearing your messages
Laughing at your jokes
Falling down again
As the road increases
Guides me through the passages
Of the fears and hopes
That we shared then
Driving out of Jansel Square
Heading towards Marroway
Passing by the Garden market
Taking photographs
And the trees were bare
I didn’t know what to say
Rising from your Wilton carpet
Pippa barked at us…
Love comes in pieces sometimes, because one is lacking all of the pieces.
Love comes in many ways, like the rain it comes down and wipes away all of our fears.
Love is like a storm, some storms leave a mark, and stay forever with our heart.
Love is like pieces of a book; it gives us a story of our loved ones.
Love is the greatest part of our life; it stays with us for all of our life and exists beyond.
Love pulls at our heart, it makes us feel that special way, we want to hold it every day.
Love is felt, and unseen, we feel it like the air we breathe, we take it in and it gives us life, lifting us to a place that only love is felt.
Love is powerful, it can cure, it can make all our dreams come true, love is the most valuable, it makes all of our day feel lovely.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Look!
Right here on this page. Another piece of me!
And another, And another.
Every poem I write for you, Every word, Every letter.
A piece of me.
And maybe, Just maybe,
If I send enough pieces,
I may be able to rebuild the heart you broke,
So long ago…
Into a thousand pieces.
In most villages away from the main citys
In 1950s say.? Life was that bit more gritty
Yet removed from 'power centers' and
Information bases, i see life was more restfull, the flow of events, went at acceptable paces? Here no connection through ideaology from the intellectual
Groups; leading down through politics and
Milatary boots, linked in; to learning centers, ensuring, speed of delivery, to all and any
'Even then, with consciousness, will, good
Sense, and approbation, disruptive and
Untried suggestions, were not dished out
Just arbitarily.' So even in these conurbations confined, dissconection offered, some respite we find, yet if you
Lived in the country? T'was much better there you lived, for life and not just some letters.'
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