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My nan had this ornament she loved very much She told us often we must never ever touch It was of a woman with flowers in hand She had a long red beautiful dress..so grand I was being defiant, I...
This is an extract from my childhood diary, 17 days after the death of my eight year old sister, Isobel. Dear Universe I think about her sometimes, when the whole house is quiet.
CHI CAN O CAN A poster of my youthful days. Caused me often to wonder in a quizzical haze. What could this silly collection of nonsense mean. To shy to ask, lest my ignorance be seen.
#household @sjw This is my first household poem, behold. Sorry its not the best.
I have this feeling. In my heart. But I don't. Know where to start. The need is great. I must confess. I just don't know. How to express. It fills my heart. With so much fear. I'm crying inside.
'Come get your flags. £5 for a big one and £2 for a little one!' A man shouts. Slush Puppies are in everyone's hands, And lollies are also selling good.
Isn't it strange how words from more than 50 years ago can just pop into your head for no apparent reason: Ten men went to mow, Went to mow a meadow, Ten men Nine men Eight men Seven men Six...
Today, I kicked a brick, An accident, of course, And after my foot connected, I yelled myself hoarse.
Today I walked in the woods, I sat down on a log and got soaked by the rain, I didn't care if I was wet I just embraced it.
It happened on a hot summer day years and years ago. Our cat and our dog were really good friends and they both were struggling with the weather.
Her stare felt strong, did she know who I was. Her eyes were dark, spark-less like an abandoned attic. I ran, panicked, I didn't know what to do.
I know a girl who doesn't like flowers.. She was once lost in the garden. Crying for those withered roses. Hurt.
Many years ago A little girl walked Sand squishing between her toes In the corner Of her baby blues A pebble so fine caught her eye It was smooth Bright flecks of gold Glistened in her soft...
Mesmerised, upon your lap A girl of only three. Cowering behind your hands Your eyes I cannot see. A single shaft of God's good light Set glory on your face, A knowing smile spread on my lips.
I'd like to tell you a story. This is the story of a sizeable chunk of rose quartz, a little smaller than my palm and very beautiful. One day, when I was about six, I was at a friend's house.
Here I am in the cold and dark, under the moonlight and in a grave yard. It's the 21st of January the only day I'll remember, the living hell of my memories go on right here for ever.
Was I four then.
Roses are red violets are blue, don't leave now, I love you. As you pack your bags and head away from home my lonely mind begins to roam.
My favorite thing, I don't know why, Is looking at the big black sky, Sitting in my mummies car, Chomping on a chocolate bar.
I know I normally write poems, but I have to tell someone...
I walked swiftly away from the trouble I heard from a house on the street. I hear a gun shot. I'm shot in the back. I stumble toward the bus stop I see where I know people are.
Be warned contains some semi graphic imaging including my cat. I have a cat which is now 15 years old I have had her since I was 1 years old.
I remember being there...with him. I was terribly frightened. He was so...so still, I had never even imagined this happening, especially not to him. His eyes were shut, his mouth open slightly.
|| It's been 8 years since you left me || On this world alone || It's been 8 years since you left me || Alone but never alone || || They say I can't remember || That I was way too small || But I...