Reflections

Happy Anniversary Ginni Bites

Apparently today is the three year anniversary of my blog. I don’t have a special poem prepared or anything and it was a nice little surprise that it remembered at all.

Though, I would like to give out my thanks to everyone who has read, liked, commented on my posts over the years: it really does mean more than I can express. You guys are awesome, especially those who seem like dependable online friends, interaction with you all has been something I never expected.

I may not always be active or extra talkative but I do appreciate you and your blogs, and your wonderful prompts and inspiration. Long may they continue to keep me sane (ish) as I pour over your words and in turn leave you with mine.

Thank you all, and in the words of a great muse.

Namaste *winks*

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Living without passion

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Without conflict could we still survive, would we still want to live in our ever revolving faceless world of placation? Would we miss having fire in our bellies? Miss having passion and love and anger? Without emotion are we even really living or merely existing?

If you were able to live forever without the fresh breeze on your face, or the spray of the waves of the sea falling in mists on your skin, or without ever hearing the rising call of the lark or feel the warmth on the skin of your cheek: would this be living?

Winds of change

Ever get those days when you feel on the very edge of change and you fear somewhere deep inside that something unknown is about to snap and leave you blowing about in the wind. You get that little unsettling feeling in your stomach as it lurches towards the what ifs and the who knows, and the knowledge that you are not in the safe and secure place that you imagined yourself to be in.

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The truth about caring

The silence is the worst part.

I can deal with shouting, or abuse, even violence

– but it’s the silence that gets me.

That simple act of muteness,

cut off from the source, unable to decipher,

blinds drawn around the truth

 – this is the worst part

It cuts through ears and ideas,

slicing finely through facts and fiction,

tugging at heart cords and hope.

A Drivers Graveyard

There’s an anger residing in hospital car parks
A hive of resentment for all that reside there
Centrical drivers in neat little boxes
Filling with fury while waiting for spaces
The stationary lane of vehicle drop offs
Stuck in defiance, wavering conventions
Growling at patients for daring to enter
A system denying all logic or sense
With scandalous charges for family penance

Words behind the face

I wish I’d held you, back then
Paused your thoughts on the moment
And asked what I didn’t want to know.

If I could have the time over
I’d pounce – as you pulled that face,
The one you do.

The slightly aggrieved, silent pout
A look that falls across a puppy’s snout
When it’s squeaker gets confiscated.

A flicker of anger denied,
Followed by deduction – confusion,
And freckled with a whimper.

I wish I could have quashed that look,
Braved the tinged sadness,
Just asked what she’d said

You wouldn’t have told me
– of course
But I wish I’d have asked