She was as beautiful as the northern lights freckles like
Scattered glowing stars on a pitch black night a smell
Of a gorgeous flower a touch gentle silk and soft.
emerald green eyes beautiful womanly curves
loving. But inside a scattered mind which she hides
I hate life why can't it be so easy like a chestnut boat
Sailing away on a crystal blue green turquoise sea.

Golden coin like sun shining down on a horseshoe shape beach

and Healthy young instead of wanting to rip my
Fuckn hair out and just be done

A moment to pause to give thanks
For the beauty and joy that fills our ranks
For the warmth and comfort of those around
Who offer support when fears abound

For the love that our families comes our way
The joy and laughter they bring to us each day
For our friends and their unwavering love they give
That makes our lives a better place to live

Overall it is a wonderful life
With family and friends to relieve our strife
Let us be grateful for all that we have been given
Let our mishaps be greatly forgiven

Pale and rainy,
Crying out for relief.
The folks down here
wander, lonely and won’t speak.
In the misty air, huddled together.
In groups, in pairs.
No one seems to know,
what brought them there.
The children’s faces,
are tainted with tears.
If you’re going downtown.
You will find them here.
At the subway station
Begging for something,
a bit to eat.
When you take the last train
home.
Just pay your respects.
To the citizens of poverty.

When the doctor says it might be cancer
your world diminishes,
small things become important,
big plans swamped simply
by the need to stay alive
not swallowed up
by the ogre of the Big C.

You wait for results
despair and desperation fighting
through your feeble attempts at optimism.
'What ifs' become 'I really should haves'
and life takes on the mantle
of the missed opportunities,
of the roads never taken.

Like children I have lost,
I miss those books I gave away.
Each lonely, loose-leaf page
I long for on this dreary day.

Some other hand now holds,
some other soul they soothe and still.
(I rue those wasted years
when I had reading-time to kill!)

One author, you may know.
(I dare not spell his noble name)
When father bid me read;
I sneered, to my eternal shame!

But that was in my youth,
when blinded to the gentle gleam
of chapters’ golden glow,
I deemed those words a dead-man’s dream.

Some clean and that is that
But others are called to sparkle and gleam
Carve out a bit of there day to wipe down
Opt out of the dirt and grime for white and pristine
It becomes a ritual with tranquil music highlighting its beginning
Has its own caddy and fragrances
Pine, cinnamon, vanilla, and citrusy bleach

Some clean and that is that
But others are called to sparkle and gleam
Carve out a bit of there day to wipe down Opt out of the dirt and grime for white and pristine
It becomes a ritual with tranquil music highlighting its beginning
Has its own caddy and fragrances
Pine, cinnamon, vanilla, and citrusy bleach

Gentle morning breeze,
Whispering secrets to trees,
Nature's symphony.

I once asked God?

On this land we tread, hope, believe,
Building years in hardwork, effervescence
Regimes envisaging dreams, skies pregnant with our desires to achieve,
No hiatus, for time never leaves our presence,
On this land, space and time,
The universe filling the missing gap, sending messages,
Through our veins, soiled in blood