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Sending greetings through inner spaces of insistence,
sensuous knowledge.Taking parts in every circumstance that comes along inour short-lived lives.Tantalizing amounts of sensitive materials sit likefodder, waiting to nurture future young minds at rest.
Bouquets of roses capture my mind, setting me free, allowing
Circles of roses drift through my consciousness, portrayinglessons of musical instruments played for years.Touching soft petals, feeling their gentle fragileness as theyattach themselves to my heart.Riding backwards through time on tracks of railroad cars,visiting edges of time forgotten.Familiar faces popping up in memories filled with relatives and ancestors.A journey of past years brought before me…
In the recesses of my mind are little known facts.
Things go floating in and out of my subconscious as if I were some kind of ferry boat.The only toll they charge is the pain of memories I had tried to tuck away inside.Why can’t it stay that way, so I can live in peace I say?But, when I go to write a story or…
Being held closely, grief covers me in it’s heavy quilt, having been knitted through the years by life’s sufferings.
Feeling loneliness, distanced from everyone, taking nothing from the experience of emptiness, only the devastating emotions that rip and tear me apart constantly.Having no reprieve, falling fast into black, murky, depressions of life’s hard reality and hell.