I just want to write a bit about a French artist who lived here in Mt Magnet and left a large hole in my life here ,I only met him this y…
Once on the bottom floor I looked to my right, and saw out of my front doors, a strange dog. Sitting upon my porch, resting her weary hea…
This is about a Dog that i lost in March Of 2007. Please read the story. Thank you for your time! Please leave me a comment, and feel free to share your stories about your animals with me. ALSO! Please visit Mlgkats Home Page AT http://www.redbubble.com/people/mlgkats Please visit my other work :) -Cheyenne
Failure of everything significance holds / Fear of anything epic love could do / Never wanting to ever be so bold / What could a little noth…
Rip, Burn and Sink
a poem for the Gaia competition
The tree stood still amongst this scene
Visiting the place where Jasmin died. An inspirational place, a quiet beauty spot, hard to find with very few visitors. I am at the beginning of a long journey. A journey of forgiveness and understanding. A sojourn which I must undertake to be able to love and live again. Jasmin Cai Neville 1989-1997 rest in peace my beautiful angel. Jasmine Neville my daughter and Charlea Fox one of her school friends drowned in the River Wharfe at a beauty spot near Arthington, West Yorkshire UK in 1997 . I will continue to change her face throughout my life. / The canvas stays the same the memories images and emotions forever alter. This represents my journey, her ever changing face reflected through many different memories and painful emotions. Just trying to keep her memory alive. / The hope is one day to finish her portrait to help me finaly accept a kind of peace within myself. More images of this work in progress are contained in my port folio on the profile page.
Take me away / Into the night / Were your face is etched in a light I can’t see, / And your hands pass through my skin / Like sweat Take m…
An edited version of a little poem/song that I wrote recently. xx / s-a
As we lay in bed / Our legs wrapped like vines / I still couldn’t help but wonder / Were you truly mine / There was something in yo…
The tick-tock of the clock / Weep? / Cry? / Live? / Die?
I wrote this when i was half asleep and in a very odd mood. If you like it you like it, if you dont then its no skin off of my back :D.Enjoy
I turn into his arms and hold him close
Phase 3, the circle continues
Sitting in a timeless blur, / I shall tell the tales of the blood around me / The blood I love and the blood I hate, / The blood that is pu…
This is the first poem from my book, “Life: The Rollercoaster to R.I.P.” / Every Wednesday this year I will be releasing a new poem from the book.
I write better in the night; / My mind is clear with words in sight / Ironic is this lack of light; / I can reach a new poetic height, / At l…
“Life: The Rollercoaster to R.I.P.” By: Justin Martin Spicer © 2008/2009
Tick, tock, tick, tock / Goes the clock on the stucco walls of the coffee shop / Click, clack, click, clack / As I type another tale on my l…
“Life: The Rollercoaster to R.I.P.” By: Justin Martin Spicer © 2008/2009
Deepest passion, see me through / For this wretched loneliness clouds my view. / Even with success and commendations, / My soul still fills …
“Life: The Rollercoaster to R.I.P.” By: Justin Martin Spicer © 2008/2009
It’s no surprise when human beings end up where they were foreseen / Trash in the bin and debris in the gutter
“Life: The Rollercoaster to R.I.P.” By: Justin Martin Spicer © 2008/2009
And one day you will see- / See that I could be- / Be more than what is seen- / Seen by your judgmental eyes- / Eyes that burn holes - / Holes…
“Life: The Rollercoaster to R.I.P.” By: Justin Martin Spicer © 2008/2009
Hiding in the dark all day / Soul begins to run away.
“Life: The Rollercoaster to R.I.P.” By: Justin Martin Spicer © 2008/2009
I feel the cold clumps / of grave dirt stick to my trembling hand / too scared to drop it gently / on your still body / I pause / and the worl…
I rescued my boy almost ten years ago from certain death. He grew to a massive 10 kilos and was bigger than your average size terrier. He gave me ten years of unconditional warm furry love for which I am so very very grateful. I love him. I love him. I will always love him. And Imiss him so much, my heart is breaking…
ripped and torn / on a dead end / alone with loneliness / there were no friends / wistful were his eyes / life was not always kind / somehow so…
Like a wild pony / Hoofing all about / Brumby’s galloping / Wild water racing on / Ripping up the Ecology / Selling another song
Port Philip Bay has had the Rip deepenned by 12 metres. We are told it is no concern. The volume of water racing in and out at each tide has increase masively. / Brumby. n, a wild horse, esp. one descended from runaway stock. ( Aboriginal ) / Mr Brumby is Victorias’ current Premier. / I don’t think that he sees the Ecology as the only thing that supports the economy. / The issue of water being piped from the Norther Victorian rivers to feed Melbournes increasing demand doesn’t address the issue that the rivers are already dieing due to the water already taken from them. / The Environment Activist Collective, Blue Wedges, that mounted a protest to the dredging of the Rip, was added the the USAs’ National Security Councils list of security risks. The USa wants the entrance to Australias Port Philip bay deeper so its Battle ships etc can enter. / Now they can. The Dreging is done ! Smiles from Brumby.
Every emotion left raw, exposed dripping / the venom of so much hate…
i could feel you / so hard / pushing / breaking / entering / cried out t othe empty air / cried out to the dirty white walls / ...
i know its a long one…please please please bear with me, and read the following as well. thank you. well… i really dont like the title first of all…or the ending… hahaha second of all…no this has not happened to me. and honestly i dont know anything about this kind of thing. this is only a personal interpretation. however, according to a friend who has gone through this, i hit it straight on. soo i am putting this out there for critical reveiw, as i am hoping to use it to compete with for my speech class. it needs to be at least 6minutes long but right now it is only 4minutes… / so what i am hoping to recieve from all of my dear readers is not only a critical review but also something to add…and deffinately a new title ;) / and it would mean even more to me if someone who has been or knows someone who as been through this situation could give an even deeper and greater insight to the feelings that are expirienced. i know this is a very personal and emotional topic but that is exactly why i am wanting to delve so deep into it…so that i can try, however futiley, to capture the essence of this sort of emotion. / so if you would please leave comments, reveiws, suggestions, anything, please please do so! and if you have more personal things to tell me, feel free to bubble-mail me. / I greatly appreciate all of your support! Thank you sooo much. / love always, jessi dedicated to my love SA~ may you Never have to go through this again~ i love you
Jean was speechless, She held him closely and cried even harder. “It doesn’t mean your not a man, it wasn’t your fault Scott.” she told him
WARNING toucher and rape senes are in this story Poem by Sally Omar / DECEIT deceit lashes back / and slaps you in the face / embarrassed and humiliated / standing in disgrace / there is always pay-back / for sins you do commit / screaming to the heavens / in a rage … a fit / but there is no peace / once you have destroyed / someone who loves you / that you have treated as a toy / don’t play a game / with a loved filled heart / if it is your intention / to say goodbye and part / how can you make up / for causing so much pain / causing someone who loves you / to become so angry .. insane / deceit lashes back / and slaps you in the face / embarrassed and humiliated / standing in disgrace DECEIT
Piercing, red and plush, / Velvet discovery, / Double bubble gush, / Sweet and savory.
This poem is about a vampire’s musings on being turned. How it felt to take the first taste of blood and what life became afterward.
We are sitting still / As the bus moves us along / The old man across the aisle / Takes one look at us / And says “you’ve had your hearts ri…
True story of a city bus ride.
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