my secret place
It was not a place of wealth,
Nor a place of poverty
but simply a space
to be myself
without judgement
The light always shined there
no fear of my beliefs
just me and the presence
changing the atmosphere
bit by bit
musings #1
Tell me that I matter
That my absence gives you pause
Then I will know
Indeed, I have a purpose
Though neither great or small
which door is mine
they say the grass is greener on the other side
or not
that if you water your own
it will flourish
but what about doors
most of them have no windows
only keyholes
if their older
doors are made to keep people out
yet we look for the open ones
but beware
not every door is yours
so when you have a choice
which one do you choose?
simple
the one you have the key to
digging for truth
In a world full of lies
It’s easy to become jaded
while digging for truth
leaves one exhausted
Makes me wish
we were as honarable
As we think we are
The Proposal
Unbeknownst to her, and out of the blue
A lover from her past
Said hello, and made his presence known
It began with humor
For that was safe
And he liked to make her laugh
Her smile still charmed him
And her eyes held the light of stars
Yet her lips, her kiss, never left his thoughts
She looked at him and knew he must be single
For whence their relationship ended
He always sought her, when there was no one else
When the hurt and anger subsided
She had convinced herself
They could be, friends again
And nothing more
Good conversation is hard to come by
An intelligent spark
A righteous humor not common
And yet, here he is again
Another girl, another broken heart
Will he ever grow up?
But he was not the same
As he was when they first met
Now he saw her, a gift, and he hung his head
Dare I try? Oh what a fool I was
Her fire enticed me
The curves of her body, my respite
I did not see her
Not for who she truly was
And now I do
She’s the one!
I’m sure of it
Now, how do I convince her?
She thought it odd
that he asked her forgiveness
For it was given long ago
Surely he is acting strange
I have no time for games
What does he want?
He shared his tale
Of his lessons and woes
And revealed that he indeed had grown up
Respect rose up within her
For the man she saw now
Yet, something was amiss
Carefully he spoke
Each word an affirmation of her worth
Even admitting of his foolery
And then, he said it
“I love you” and have been for some time
Give me a chance, I promise to make you happy
Did her ears deceive her
A profession of love?
Oh he knows the right words to say!
Sincere and truth
Did he doth speak
She pondered all he said
A piece of her heart said “yes”
While her gut said “no”
Oh what to do, what to do
Give me time, I request
To think about
Your proposal
She eventually told him no
Told him twice
Yet he persisted
Though she longed not to hurt him
Nor disrespect his heart
But she could not feel, what she had, so long ago
Indeed, his proposal was
All that she ever wanted
What she longed to hear
Yet now she gazed upon him
And knew she could not love him
The way he deserved
So thrice she denied him
Though painful it was
To tell someone you love. . . .
I’m not in love with you anymore.
Progress Report
Well, first things first. I have passed a milestone, and have gratefully been on WordPress for over a year. That being said, I am going to give myself a small pat on the back. Mostly, because I have put one foot in front of the other in a forward direction, and had a little faith in myself, that I could create something worth reading, with words.
Yes, I know, I’m certainly not going to compare myself to the likes of J. K. Rowling, Anne McCaffrey, C.S. Lewis, or George R.R. Martin, but it is a step in the right direction. I often find myself battling work fatigue, self doubt, self- discipline, life in general, and time management. Most of these of which, I am most proficient in, in my professional life, which currently pays the bills. But, you see, I have this “but” that keeps coming up when it comes to my writing.
I have often wanted to have a mentor. Some one to challenge me, encourage me, or just tell me what I am going through, is normal.
“Writers are not normal, and never will be. We are story tellers, with the gift of gab, flare, and perception. Into a world most people never see, yet they live in, everyday. Writers are braver than they think, but oftentimes don’t know it. The trials and tribulations you face, are part of the growing process. You, just have to commit, to NOT give up.”
At least that is what I imagine the wise sage would tell me.
Are we hopeless, we dreamers? So full of dreams, worlds, and stories, that someone wants to read. No, that someone needs to read. If even to be reminded, we are not alone in the journey we call life. Do you ever wonder? Well, if you have any truthful words of encouragement, I’m all ears.
And if any of you are in the same place I am, I will be happy to reciprocate. Quite the many few of you, inspire me with your amazing touch with the pen! You put words together like PB & J. And I, am in awe.
Blessings Diamonds
Keep Shining
a future glimpse
It is times like these I wish you were by my side.
Your insight, into my day, would be a sweet delight.
My head upon your shoulder, where I can hear your heart, and inhale the scent of you.
This is the home, my heart longs for.
You do not live in my country.
But from across the sea.
I know not what you look like.
However, my heart will know you, once we meet.
It is not your title
Nor you money I need
Just a place beside you
Not a you and I, but we
Passing the Test
Before the breakthrough
There is always a test
A distraction
That catches us off guard
Oftentimes, we don’t see it coming
Will we take
Less than what we asked?
Or settle, and wonder what if?
Keep steadfast in thy gaze
And remind yourself of your goal
Not all that glitters is gold
Or is the answer to your call
Pay attention to your spirit
Let peace be your guide
Fear not the doubts of others
Or the naysayers tongue
For the test is yours, not theirs
And how you fare
How you choose
Determines if you pass or not
Breakthrough
I have fought to be myself.
And I will no longer pay for a crime I did not commit.
My past is just that. You are the ones who abused me.
Yes, you know who you are.
The scars you created are vanishing.
And no longer allowed to poison my heart, my mind, my soul, or my future.
Your actions could have destroyed me.
But God had a plan.
Yes I am broken.
Yes, my soul has changed. . . . . . For the better.
Because in my brokeness, God made me beautiful.
I am who I am.
My light and grace are strong within me.
I’ve been through the fire.
And came out possessing my own.
What the enemy meant for harm.
God took it, and made me a warrior.
Is it True?
Ever wonder what happens when you make a wish?
It is said
That it will come true
If you believe
But how can we believe
In something we haven’t seen?
Oh but you have
You saw it in your heart
And if you don’t doubt
It will come
But Beware!
Imitations arrive
To confuse you
So be clear
For our wishes, are our prayers
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