Mama 

🌸Dedicated to my Mummy who has been with me through it all. Blessed Mother’s Day. 妈母亲节快乐🌸
And to all mothers, godmas,grandmas and mothers to be. Blessed Mother’s Day🌹
Mama 

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I can’t remember how it felt to be born and to be in my mother’s hands that 1st time….
I can’t remember how my son or daughter smelt like when they were placed in mine. 
All I remember is feeling that I would never be the same me ever again. 
That love at 1st sight feeling is indescribable and the bond unbreakable.
Seeing my son sleep and I sneak him a whisper of love. 
Seeing my girl tossing in her crib,

I bend over and kiss her.
I’ll never love like this ever again. 
Each moment, each fear, each heartbreak of theirs forever linked mine.
Every experince in your life. 
Each love, each failure and Victories live it well and savor it. 
Be brave. Be faithful. Fight for what you believe in and always be kind. 
Be better than me and your Father. 
And always 

always 

Always…. 
I’m proud and you are loved. 
Thank you for calling me mama 

my sweet babies.

F this !


F this 

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Yeah you’re right.

You are 99.9% correct all the time .

And I’m wrong,

100% Tainted in my soul.

Is it a Sin if anger burns under your skin?

Would you ask to be forgiven if it was you instead in knee deep?
Yeah you’re right.

I could, should , must have done better.

I open and shut all the drawers of my miserable excuses only to be confronted by the horror of your disbelief.

Shall I run like I always do like a puss in the night?

Shall I stand brave and take it all ? 

I shudder, gag I can’t swallow it all. 

Write because 

Write because
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I write in the night because my words speak clearer and smoother than they do in the light.

I write late while the world sleeps and the spark in my mind fires at top speed.

I write after dark because the voice that speaks to me whispers in harsh tones demanding to have weight.

I write because I need a platform to be heard when the last light of the day has dim and the star needs to be seen.

I write when I’m lonely,  when I feel lost and depressed. They come like tumbling weed to my bellows bearing comfort or amusement.

I write when my muses makes me smile.
I grin like a silly fool and think of all sorts of fun things that we do.

I write for this moment in this space to leave behind a little something more than pictures. Perhaps this is a window to the mind of a wanderer never quite finding her footing on solid ground.

I write freely and can be anything and everything or nothing. And that’s fine, It’s my comfort zone.

I wrote to one day read this again and be happy that I’ve captured this moment and you have read what silly notions I’ve wrote. 

Image via https://dennmart.me/remembering-things-with-pen-and-paper/

The Golden Ball

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The Golden Ball.

Do you see me shine one last time as I tumble out of your fingers and into the pond so cold.

I see the light grow dimmer and the sky around me fades.

Your warmth hands that grasp around me caressing my smooth finish. Your loving voice and sweet face in frozen horror as I slipped and sunk they are anchored forever in my mind.

This quiet pond surrounds me.

Murky things weave and swim pass me.

Should I loss my shine and loveliness would her majesty still want me?

Woe! Endless waiting befalls me.

Her glorious face slowly eludes me.

As I fade. As I fade.

http://ninjacrunch.com/impressive-frog-and-toad-digital-artworks/

Heavy…Freed…

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I rampage through the drawers of my mind wondering which part of me is truly me?
Hannah says she is and shall always be her and what about me?

How true am I and would I ever be the true me?
So many questions that lead to more drawers and compartmenting of things.

Slience?
Yeah l love Slience.
It is such a luxury though to many I don’t seem to be one who would acknowledge how much it means to me.

Broken?
Of course I’m broken it took a miracle to fix.
Thus the transfixtion on the crucified.
I nail it to that.
I place my sins, my heartbrokeness
And place them in your nailed pierced palms that set me free.

Pasodoble

  
“Pasodoble” 
We ended it. 

Then just like that we started it again. 

Like moths dancing in flames

We came together again just as easily. 
The sound of your voice. 

That smooth way you groove. 

It just stirs something inside me

And I’m off my wandering again. 
Like a record that’s being played,

I know I’m spinning in your hands. 

Not that I mind it

But it’s a losing hand that I’ll play. 
But we couldn’t fight it. 

I shouldn’t romanticize it. 

Cause it’s a game till the very end 

And I should just be in it to ride it. 

Then toss the wave of emotions away. 

Image via http://moonofsun.deviantart.com/art/Pasodoble-413575699