Just A Pinch of Crazy
She was just a little girl
With big blue eyes
And she dreamed everyday
Of touching the sky.
The world watched her grow
And become a lady
A fearless woman
With just a pinch of crazy.
Her music touches the hearts
Of the young and old
Creating a relationship
That is inspiring and bold.
She doesn't carry bad blood
For those who bully her
She just fills the blank spaces
And leaves them in a blur.
With a pinch of crazy
She sings a love story
And after years of searching
Her lover becomes her glory.
Every word she writes
Becomes a part of a song
Every song she writes
Makes her reputation strong.
Haters are gonna hate
And say mean things
But she just shakes it off
And continues to sing.
Small dedications to those who- leave lasting impressions in life
A paradise of nature eloquent flowers bouquets sculpted by a spiral maze:
that has yellow, orange, pink, red roses with a rich redolent scent phase
Lilies, lilacs tulips, daisies, daffodils, buttercups of bountiful blooms;
all have enchanted scents of fragrant perfumes to sniff then to choose
Love interludes does ensue with varying and vibrant exotic love cues;
red, white roses and purple azaleas and orchid bed gardens muse
Summer countryside morning-glory flowers are new to you:
wildflowers consisting of colorful shades and natural hues
Pluck pretty prime peonies, pincushions and pansies flowers;
this to deployed plentifully in a pretty precocious bridled shower
Rhododendrons, impatiens, tulips violets are lavish lush tributes:
flowers are a botany study and nature's romance "love divine institutes"
"Escribed here are the Floral flowery poetic tributes," a Floral salute!
beneath a mighty
oak... I weep. I grieve. I BREATHE.
Sunday mourning thoughts ~
Laid in a ragged carpet,
a corner of the street
awash with vivid colour,
a vision bittersweet.
Between the sagging flowers,
ribbons and cellophane,
a portrait and a smiling bear
whose face belies the pain.
With passing days the blossoms wilt
the colours fade, they die,
raindrops run down the frame and glass
the silent portrait cries.
The world still turns, people walk past,
flowers will soon be gone,
rainbow of sorrow washed away
and life will carry on.
But my bouquet shall never fade
for it never lay there,
a posy that no hand had made,
this corsage made of prayers.
Sent skyward like a new bride's gift
beyond the stars above,
tied with ribbons that cannot fray
such is the strength of love.
More streets may fill with flowers as
more sorrow surely comes,
but my bouquet will still shine on
like a thousand setting suns.
call on the lords that are destroyed
by lies, lies of Gods that sacrifice
by killing, by melting away and by
burning at the stake
these are what happens
when wrongness is seen
the oceans of lost tributes
waves around the tides pull
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