Love hangs in the balance,
of an everlasting truce.
Love hangs in the balance,
of an everlasting truce.
To begin again is always the hardest thing.
Facing that blank page is daunting; it screams out in its purity, gives rise to palpitations and forces us to consider our options for the first time in a long time. It’s easier to carry on the story, pick up where you left off last time. The knowledge that you can recap and maybe gain an idea that you were heading towards, so that you can carry on with this in mind. It’s easier and comforting, when you have your base characters and plot worked out you can somehow spring from this much smoother than beginning afresh. Whether this is because the carrying on from old stock just means you are merely filling or that it just makes you more secure: I’m unsure. Perhaps it’s the opposite and it’s the new beginning that is just too daunting. There is too much potential to fail, too much that could go wrong, and so, under the pressure of all ‘the could be’, we simply freeze.
IT’s just that initial burst, that first nudge, the one little but huge step to get us across the starting line, once this happens then we can easily adapt to the new scenario – yet sometimes it seems too hard to start.
It shines – reluctantly
Gold piping around edges
curved lines:softened by the glow
mesmerised red eyes
drawn like moths
to a wide open plain
visible and raw
for all the room to see
with a limited time
patches of rainbow fog
just another symptom
A way not to see
the blindingly obvious
Just the slightest inclination
Ear towards the sound
The faintest incantation
Too loud and she’ll be found
‘I’ll leave you fighting your demons’
an irony that’s not wasted on me
The white grenache drips
from the lip of the bottle
as I shake the remnants
Careful not to waste a drop
We were once a ballad
you and I
a couple to be envied
So in sync and never apart
Out of choice though
Both yours and mine
Yet shared wine becomes solo
Minds working on differing levels
just as in games
We each fight our own battles
but standing apart
Different platforms – different worlds
‘It doesn’t matter’ you persist
We share the same space
Yet I have never felt further
from you – from the truth
I am more aligned with this bottle
Once filled with joy – now just an empty husk
I am wasting my life
I know it, yet I cannot seem to stop it. I sit and I feel it slipping away from me. My get up and go has got up and gone and I have no idea how to find it again, or know if indeed it is still out there waiting to be found.
In my thoughts I am a pioneer, I swoop and soar and plan all things which I could do, list all the things I should do, hide from the things I need to do – yet still I lie.
Curled up in a fortress of quilt whenever I can get the chance, if ever I need not to be at work and sometimes when I should be somewhere else – i lie. Hidden behind walls and I lie, in bed waiting, waiting for something unknown.
I am tired
My bones do not want to move today or ever. I do not want to drag my carcass out into the unfriendly world where it has no relevance, no meaning, no joy. I feel guilt for all of the things I am missing out on, feel bad for those I am letting down, constantly but still I cannot seem to force myself out. I dont know what I want but I know it isnt this – I am a waste of life in this state. Not living but simply existing.
The only thing that brings solace is sleep. I feel I could sleep forever and feel happier lost in dreams for life only brings cruelty and sadness.
Please just let me sleep.
He was never mine not really, not where it mattered.
For the most part, I am a shareholder. A greedy coveter grasping a ticket, a little piece of him that I believe is mine, until the next time. The next spin of the wheel, eagerly watching the bounce, wondering where the white ball will land, wondering if my time is near. Alas, lady luck was never a friend to me. And so shall he be, forever more on the move,free to roam to whichever ever table he pleases. I can but sit and watch agog whilst the women sigh and feign over him. My stomach knotting to see blood red fingertips brush his skin. My scorn rises as perfumed beauties fawn and blush to see him pass by, they even lean in to smell his sweet scent at times. my discontent clearly shown, I cannot help it.
He is not mine any more yet once he was and I am loathe to forget. The night we shared on the poker table, I recall the revelry in his caress. How I would pull him to my lips with each jubilant squeal. I remember the fire of anticipation before we touched, our first meeting of indecency, our indiscretion of sorts.
Our last meeting was so long ago yet still I yearn for you, still I sit and watch you work your magic on others, hoping one day your delights will come back to me. praying for a day you will return so I can love you better, and not let you slip so easily through my fingertips..
An Expensive Kiss
He leapt from her arms, conscious of time fading. He took one last look at her smiling face between his palms before planting a soft kiss, then he ran. He didn’t look back: a clear image in mind. He ran towards his scowling fiancé who was waiting, tickets in hand.
Words left unsaid
Sometimes I feel I would eat you alive
Merge my face into your supple chest
and blend our bodies together.
To peel off your skin
make you into a coat
So I can wear you all day
Entwine limbs and lungs,
solder lips and tongues.
Press my bones against yours
until the imprint is visible
for all to see,
to show you just
how deeply I am into you
Check out NaPoWriMo for the original prompt and find more great blogs
In Safe Waters
It silently calls to her
Invisible evaporation of water
Thoughts like waves: a sea
of emotion, that yearns for the sea
Oceans impatiently awaiting her
Ready with translucent arms of water
Encouraging her, child of the water
Imploring her thirst – taste of the sea
Reluctantly accepting its connection to her
Returning to the sea: her heavenly water haven – her home
I gave up the first day I tried using this form but something called me back to it, possibly my stubbornness but hey whatever works – Check out the original NaPoWriMo prompt here
In the material and spiritual realm
A soul telling your mind what your heart bleeds for.
They exist. I can taste it.
she writes stuff sometimes.
Text in ya face
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I CAN'T CONTROL EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE, BUT I CAN CONTROL WHAT I PUT IN MY BODY.😎🍓🍍🍇🍑🍐🍉🍈🍏🍊🍋🍅🍎🍌🍠🍢🍥
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Welkom op de blog van Discobar Bizar. Druk gerust wat op de andere knoppen ook, of lees het aangrijpende verhaal van Harry nu je hier bent. Welcome to the Discobar Bizar blog, feel free to push some of the other buttons, or to read the gripping story of Harry whilst you are here!
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