Crying because I was happy Crying because I was sad Crying because I had lost The best friend I’d ever had Joy and Sadness Resistingthe urgeto crytodayis futile. (Originally Posted 24.05.2019…
Day: May 25, 2022
No Room At The Inn – Ramblings Of A Fragile Mind
You should look for someone else They say Now time’s moved on a bit I wouldn’t know where to start I say Or where in my head they’d fit HeadRoom Ididnotrealise Thatspacein myhead …
Writing VS Blogging – Keep it alive
TODAY’S QUOTE “Blogging is to writing what extreme sports are to athletics: more free-form, more accident-prone, less formal, more alive. It is, in many ways, writing out loud.” Andrew Sullivan ➰➰➰…
My muse… | johncoyote
My muse… You are love and I’m no-one. You came to me with haunting words awakening the want of love, dance and song. Your gentle voice awoke my dying spirit. Your kind words and sweet …
Source: My muse… | johncoyote
The brown eyes girl… | johncoyote
The brown eyes girl… I fell in love with the brown eyes girl.Her lips of sweet honey and smile that can light up my day. She dances with her children.Making me jealous of her gentle embraces …
echoes ~ | tornadoday
where am I written does your soul bear my name without memory of years passed between are there places made safe by the refuge of life a silence where hope is redeemed by the echo of heartbeats whe…
Source: echoes ~ | tornadoday
random divine ~ | tornadoday
At arbitrary times in my life – sitting on the back porch, coming up the driveway, folding warm towels from the dryer, standing at the kitchen window watching a robin cock his head, hearing a burst…
Source: random divine ~ | tornadoday
Strong Woman; Ageless, Timeless, Washed up or Free? (A Collab with Cindy and Sheereen) | Unique Times
Poetry collaboration of Strong Woman Everywhere!
Heart of Harp – Source of Inspiration
Oh, that my heart were a harp filled with music of angels every pluck a prayer of gratitude each melody a song of love
Elusive Sleep – Source of Inspiration
Sleep eludes hides in covers tossed and turned mind full of chatter time stuck in we morning hours. Bed no longer a place to rest I rise to start my day listening to the crowing cock who also start…
The Reluctant Poet 