I opened my life to you
I let you inside
Not knowing
What was in your mind —
The sharp blade of a knife
And now that my heart
Is sliced up in shreds
You’ve left me on the floor
While you’ve gone searching
For more
Trusting and unwounded
Fresh slate for your
Amusement
You go knocking
On doors
I’ve been nominated by my dear friend Mark to participate in the Quote Lovers challenge so have decided to give it a go. Mark has an amazing upbeat spirit and can be found here:
If You Are a Quote Lover, Day Two
Here are the rules:
Post your three favorite quotes, one each for three consecutive days.
With each post nominate three bloggers for the challenge.
Recognize the blogger who nominated you.
I’m taking this one home (to South Africa!)
Here goes!
There is no passion to be found playing small – in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.
Nelson Mandela
Here are my three nominations:
https://sherriedevaleriahendrie.wordpress.com
https://reachingmeadowlane.wordpress.com
https://erikakind.wordpress.com
Thank you, Mark!
Your silent presence
Comforts me each time
I see your face
While others take –
You only give your
Soulful loving grace
A beautiful poem ❤
I
Blew some
Bubble
Dreams into the
Air
Thoughts
Of mine
My hopes and
Cares
And prayed
As each
Floated silently
Away from me
That one
Fragile
Vulnerable
Bubble dream
Would be carried
Gently back
To me
Inspired by an initial post of mine
Dreams as Bubbles before I had really started writing poetry:
https://movingtowardsthelight.com/2014/01/30/dreams-as-bubbles/
I am not a rock. Though sometimes I feel like a stone. I work in IT. One of those rare professions the longer I work in it, the less I seem to know. My husband, on the other hand (bless him), seems to know everything. He is more like a mountain than a rock.
Yesterday I had a particularly harsh day. My husband last night stepped in to try and shed some light into my darkness. Until he finally turned to me and declared, you’re doing that weird thing with your hair again. Yeah, I’m twisting it instead of pulling it out (that happens too!) Can I go write some poetry now? Because passion.
Bubble Dreams coming up!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I Am a Rock.”
I fly to the light
I fly to you
I fly to where
The sun shines through
I fly with hope
I fly with love
I fly with wings
To heaven above
Sharing this wonderful poem! ❤
How we react to early events
The decisions we make in child minds
They can stick with us for life.
They can also be changed
Our brain reprogrammed
In ways that are kinder to adult minds.
Oh yes the feelings are strong
We don’t want to change
Emotions are the strongest part of a memory
The very fears we try to avoid
Would have us avoid the change
Just doing their job.
The ego takes control
“Give me your attention”
“Love me”
“Do this my way”
But it’s nature will never be satisifed
It’s disappointments drag you down.
This is not who you are
Your true self wants to lead
The ego’s strength grows in battle
So laugh at how it manipulates you
While never being satisfied, instead
Let the quietness inside you be the guide.
.
[ this poem is inspired by Vonita’s post Insecurity ]
Gift to me, O Lord, I pray
Fruits that only Thou can give
Fill my heart with grace and truth
Love, joy and peace
And all things good
When I turned eight my mother held a birthday party for me. The children arrived and played with my sister. I felt left out of my own birthday party. I promised quietly I would never agree to having another party for myself. I felt insecure. Two weeks later we moved to the city. I started a new school in the middle of the school term. I was the new girl. At my previous school I had my best friend Angie. We had grown up together. I really missed Angie. Her real name was Angelique and I loved the sound of her name. I struggled to make new friends. I was too shy to join in with the other girls, and none of them invited me to. I became a loner. And escaped in books.
Sometimes blogging brings up feelings of insecurity. How will I feel if others read my writing and then they don’t? What happens if they stop reading? Etc. I don’t want to be left out. There is honesty in blogging. We can present a window of ourselves and not the total view, but it is still a reflection of who we are.
Poems and Petals 