Attribute two my poet tree book edit tor
I no that the write punk chew asian, speeling and grammer are sew impotent when righting poet tree, don’t chew think sew two? Sow four my book eye will bee making shore aye ewes my smell chequer.
This is attribute to the wonderful lady who is going tubby the edit tor of my poet tree book. Eye don’t think shell have any issues after reeding this tribute as my werk is prefect!
Seriously, I will stress I am NOT leaving Poetry Soup, I have a lifetime PM and I intend to use it until I can no longer pick up my pencil. I am just taking some much needed time out to focus on getting my poems into a book. It has been my intention to do this since I left work in 2016 and now the time is right for me to put my plan into action.
I will be dropping back from time to time to read some of the amazing poets here and to make the odd comment
Jan
1st April 2019 (despite the date its not an April fool's joke)
Height is not an issue
But today I got introduced to a nasty verbal stew
It was this one bullish kind of comment
Of odium and torment
Initially I thought, it was human nature
Coming from a relative who is short in stature
The tyrant venting with a curse
A sheer case of moral shortsightedness
‘Conquer the whole world and lose your own soul’
Egoistic pride becoming his ultimate goal
I wish He could really be a mentor
For when there is troubling waters, he steers the young to the shore
His ignorance makes me very very angry
I pray that of this treacherous plot, I am set free
If I were not 'born again' in Christ and he were a watermelon
I swear my words would have been a sharp knife and his mouth a cracked gallon
Spider-man, he definitely is not
Being a woman, I Wonder why he insists on making Fijian ‘lovo’ in a foreign pot
My family counselor said ‘it is the short man's syndrome’
********! Sheer ignorance; fact is, from childhood, he hasn't mentally grown.
My soul was on fire, as I entered the wood
By the old rusty gate, which silently stood
Absorbing history, making no choice
Passing no judgement, adding no voice
The rough ancient path, veined with roots
To test my step, or scuff my boots
Unhurriedly followed the line of the brook
But this was not the path I took
I turned to the right, climbed up through the trees
Where bracken and brambles tugged at my knees
‘til I reached the edge of the open moor
And strode on up to the lonely tor
Where first we kissed on that moonlit night
Where you held me close, as I held you tight
That was the moment I was truly born
My life before you had been tattered and torn
You gave me the courage to truly be me
You gave me your love unconditionally
Yes, my soul was on fire, as you came into view
On the edge of the rock, by the magical yew
And I knew, as then, you were only her ghost
The spirit of the one I have loved the most
Chimes of a music box a glass Doll
Crea-tor for I am a crea=tor also and I am women
why, did you love us like that to make us a crea-tor
like you, where we your like baby dolls to dance
and sing and in bare feet and children to created like you also
what a gift to give to woemen to love that way awesome
of you and all of the love the same to you as given for you first
love us. thank you creator for I am women. the chimes
is how to sing it, the music boxes. to run in wild flowers
in hoop and bare feet to Wed, and sing to our children
of Day we would party your brithday party July 4th 2007