Join in and link back to her blog. 1 Comment on 90 m. Lift the curtain high at dawn. Let the flickering candles yawn. Clouds full of snow,. Sing black on white,. Lift up and fight,. Reach for the night,.

Hope you all had a great start to the New Year. I just loved this poem by Mick and would suggest you all to read on. This is one happy poem and you ought to read it to realize.

Inspiring personal growth through poetry and writing. Sign up for a newsletter. Is made of tears,. No bricks, no wals. And recklessly try to climb. But day retreats, cowardly, in guilt,. Quilted with shy stars and mourning moon. And I say, restore and watch. Like fireflies caught in the rain. Distant, but intense,. Snow rolls in between breasts. Of this curvy city,.

Climbing, rock climbing, bouldering, inspire, soul. The untouched inside of me. A novel of ancient,. Explores my invisible world of weightless fantasies,. Romancing the untouched stories inside of me. The raven had said, it is all a nightmare that dreams, death now has grounds to grow. Their black and white is doubtful. Within their silence villains roam.

Player of words, artist of emotions. I struggled and I lost. I cried and bore the pain. What was it I was doing wrong? I never got the answer;. And yet again, I struggle,. And this is why I struggle.

The only way for people to read me. What if I left dots . Would they not suffice to know me. What about a barren land,. That is left deprived of any existence . That emanates to bring forth. Some of the greatest verses,. The only way for people to read me.

Random Stuff and is therefore Uncategorized. Following Him Beside Still Waters. This is week fifty of Three Line Tales. And here is the photo and my response. If you want to join in, just click the link; the rules can be found there. Photo by Annie Spratt via Unsplash. I look at the table; it is set, and dinner is supplied. It reminds me of the Last Supper before Jesus died,.