The cold evening arrives with the vigour of a teen on a promise, reminding me that winter is on its way and all warmth will perish.
Summer is slowly becoming a distant memory, the sun I enjoyed pops in and out, struggling to heat even the shallowest of puddles.
Oh yes puddles, from the torrent of rain that decides to come every time I am in travel, making me blind to the others around me.
Misery is descending, the inner sad growing as the dark and grey becomes the normal vision to my eyes, eyes that need light, need the mild heat of the spring morning, as this gives promise to better days ahead.
Never going to forget the time when may cousin was five and he asked why boobs are naughty and I told him it's because girls just say that because we keep money in there and robbery is bad. I then pulled five dollars out of my bra and he just looked at it with that amazed look that five year olds have.
The way
waves of love
Perhaps, I wouldn't had
crashed onto the shore
but
let the oceam crash onto me
If I had known
then true love would had waited
for his Rose
if he had known
the fields wer ripe
he would have been my rose
8
If I had known
but
nature calls when I am ready
to me for me and only me
If I had known
then I knew.
mine
By alice Moore dunbar-Nelson
If I had know
two years ago how drear this life shold be,
And crowd upon itself allstrangely sad,
Mayhap another song would burst from out my lips,
Overflowing with the happiness of future hopes;
Mayhap another throb than that of joy.
Have stirred my soul int
This poem is not written by me and the author unknown:
You are only loitering and sluggard
Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.
In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.
But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of
The hillsides and the songs of the forests.
And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, “Wherefore are you slow and halting”?
For the truly good ask not the nak
Now he makes me sick
But today, oodles of days since ^ that line
my rose is still pleasant to the eyes, and all the other
senses
lol now at what made me sick, I do not know or remember
nor do I wish to
all I know is, one moment I want him to ravage me and the next
am pleaing him to let me love him..ugh sic...no..yes
please , pen (qwerty) celebrate me home in his arms of love
tenderly stroking his hair with his head on my lap
men like laps let us not forget
since one time a castrated eunich
once told me of whom I wish to
forget forever and never see again
may this one forget
and never more remember me
and toes as a grace once