4-6-14Odd Turn of Giggles
They rest at ease,
Sleeping near and content,
With little fears near them to haunt them,
Through they giggle like little devils,
When I say they haunt me!
Oh giggle now,
Little trouble makers,
Come by morrow,
I might use you as bait!
They mean well,
They are children,
They are my distance kin,
For I must watch over,
For I picked the short straw,
Again might I add…?
This vacation as very much so,
Taken an odd turn!
What can be done about them?
Soon they’ll be like every other adult,
Forgetting the yesteryears,
Along with tiny memoires,
Grow slowly if you can,
The world is not all what’s crack up to be.
Listen carefully to the wiser one,
As know why I am here,
To watch you,
Is more than what is spoken between elders?
Despites our tiffs,
I love you,
Again they giggle,
Because I’m being nice,
Making faces at them don’t make them stop,
Nor in memory of awhile,
Being a troll monster trying to eat their,
Toes not too lon
SurpassOut doing what has already been done,
Is a challenged for many?
Ask few on how they started out,
It wasn’t riding down a child’s play-set slide,
It was being pushed down a ledge,
Rolling down the rocky cliffs,
Wacky against trees and wildlife,
Just maybe finding that soft patch of grass,
And you’re hoping it’s not glass.
Being better or getting better,
Relies on how the doer does it.
Be it a fail or not,
It’s on their shoulders,
On remembering how they got there,
What made them get noticed,
What makes others keeping coming back for more?
It’s on them,
Getting better and working for what they love,
Yes money is nice to have,
But the passion is just as strong,
Best not be blinded by that,
And keep going,
What else is there to say?
And take in full strides.
A little LateBe quick on this note,
For this is far too late as a fool’s joke.
For on this day,
May be brings,
Laughs and confusion,
As this day long when this site,
Was just growing from a little bud,
I was to join.
But things came up and stole me away,
Having things be done with,
Handled with and toss aside of what wasn’t needed,
But the wandering thoughts of coming back,
Even now of lack of thinking of leaving,
Is far from happening!
Proudly joined and feeling whole,
Is just as grand!
Still not sure as to what this will amount,
As how close I was in being part of this domestic.
But it is said and done,
Over and brought anew,
Even to bring up a simple notice of this,
As to even not joining,
These people who have each other’s back,
Thrived to be something,
That no fat cat could ever claim!
Just thought to bring up,
That this day helped me find you,
And made me come back from life,
That was only seen half empty,
To now seeing it
My MistakesI wish only to be humble,
Has only left me in trouble,
In what has to be an all-time low.
If not one thing,
It must really be the timing,
That has left me brother.
Oh dear oh my,
This is just horrible!
Lie this has been,
If to cover it,
It would never fit,
For others must have seen.
That all make mistakes,
As quick and unknowing as earthquakes!
Oh dear oh my,
For an owe,
I have to make up for.
Even if it’s just a small tore,
I’ll fit it,
And then hope everything will let it go.
Final LoopThy little needle purple coated,
Slim and perilous,
Looping the cloth as one,
Though tough as vise mead,
Keeps the work unsmooth,
Leaving little choice for alone,
The chances of done,
Unpassable at best!
But not something to quick,
Just as fallen hat,
A tear will shed,
This will be done,
One cotton twine at a time.
And the finish work,
Will be one of the best!
Just as the ones before,
In the hall of the greats!
This just needs to have one final loop.
Paint a Picture No. 17A tragic it was, as she was found, lacking any signs of life, faintness of cold blue, beaten purple, angry red, and phantom white grace her face. Water lingered and dripped out in the open airs of city’s winter.
As her waterlog body rested on the worn stone walkways, nearly only meters or so away from the bridge not far away.
With a night as quiet as this, it will be near morn until she’ll be found. Torn, wetly thicken; faded rubicund dress formed with a woman, no, a young lady, small child in another look in one’s eyes, barely just a year or so away from adulthood, now for every still.
As the city far from her resting place, rested now, but be lively soon. Seeing upon when the coming light of the morning sun, a small glim shined from her hand, grasped tightly, the golden chain bitten and ripped into her tender flesh, as strands of pink strained the chain.
As the locket, casted in the likely shade of the chain, molded in the form of a heart, gems of crystals outline t