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First blog post

This is the post excerpt.

This is my very first Blog post, so I have Dreadlocks, mine are organic/Freeform/Natural whatever you want to call them. Basically I just stopped doing anything to my hair over a year ago, no brushing, no conditioning. I still wash my hair but I use a dreadlock shampoo about every ten days or so. When I started my dreadlock journey my hair was at the top of my waist, now its shoulder length, so I’m hoping now for it to start growing longer.

As this is my first Blog ill add a poem in. Enjoy

Beauty and the Beast.

 

 

I went to war.

There, I was thrown to the floor.

When I came home,

I entered through a different door.

 

I was no longer me.

I was a different girl.

Deformed body, Scarred face.

Ugly outside,

And that made me ugly within.

 

Alone and Isolated,

Spiteful and Resentful.

I came back hating the world,

And all the people in it.

 

Then you came along.

Entered my bitter and twisted world.

I don’t know how you got through my barriers.

But you, saw through my ugliness,

You saw my heart,

And I saw yours.

 

You were just a girl,

And I an acrimonious girl,

With no heart, or so I thought.

You found the love within me,

Buried deep down inside.

And you, with your love, brought it out.

 

You made me beautiful again.

Inside, and that shines through, outside.

From your love a seed was sewn,

And a new life re-grown.

Now I am whole again,

And our life will begin,

Once upon a time…….

 

 

 

 

 

Spirit.

You see the spirit,

You learn on your Deathbed.

What’s to say, what’s in your head isn’t real.

Feel. Truth.

The truth of what and who you are.

Spirituality.

This loneliness.

These empty feelings.

Your spirit is your saviour,

It was and always will be.

The heavy weight of a situation.

To be,

Or maybe not.

Happiness is love?

Peace and stability.

A warm breeze gently flows across my body.

There shall be no enlightenment,

Only the realism, of the pain of life.

You must harden your soul.

Accepting death, is the first step,

To understanding love.

Take comfort in your Armour.

Be thankful for life, the power of now.

Namaste.

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Ruby

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This is a poem about my little dog Ruby. When I got her seven years ago. My child.

 

My new baby,

so tiny you are,

you shine like a star.

Already loved more than life.

A fast yappy soul,

you make me feel whole.

My playful, confident companion.

 

You never leave my side.

Be it day, or be it night.

You are here to stay,

and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My curious little follower,

My tiny little borrower.

My cherished puppy,

My little Ruby.

 

 

Quite

I have been able to get so much Writing done lately on my novel, ‘Take me Away’ which should be finished in a couple of weeks, I am really loving the process, just waiting for an agent to take it, take the bait. Been writing more Poetry too, here’s a recent one.

Quite.

 

I find the world strange,

and I myself strange within.

Do people notice me,

do they see what I see what I see

do the even notice.

 

I find the world strange,

and I myself strange within

I see the world.

I see you,

as I do not exist

I am the sabotager.

 

I find the world strange

Do people notice me.

I am here, all alone.

angry inside, not without.

The fear of people,

Is what keeps me locked away.

 

I find the world strange,

Do they see what I see.

The instability.

Inward destruction.

Turn around, hide in denial.

We are all flawed.

On the borderline.

Living with the struggle.

Just don’t abandon me now.

 

I find the world strange,

Do they even notice.

I disappeared from life,

In my self imposed prison

I pushed everyone away.

I cant get out now

Intense despair.

The strong current of emotions,

Drowning, slowly.

An empty void.

Who am I really?

I cry out a silent scream.

A quite Borderline.

The Cullin hills.

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The Cullin Hills.

 

Over there are the Glens,

Bathed in shadow.

They rise high above the loch.

Mountainous terrain.

A maze of water,

Rushing through, down the land.

 

The Mountains rise so high,

You could walk right up to heaven.

Patches of Sunlight,

God’s own highlighter.

And a silence so loud,

You hear the wind change.

Pure, Peace.

 

The Wind whips my face,

And leaves behind it’s icy sting.

Hills dashed and dotted,

With splashes of white

Sheep galore.

 

I feel the sun,

On my Island weathered face.

Such freedom.

Running across the wide expanse,

Under the Cullin Ridge.

 

I long to stay here,

At the gateway to Heaven.

Remote, Isolated, Free.

My private Isle.

My Skye,

An Island in the clouds.

I may leave, but here my heart will remain.

 

 

 

 

The Leprechaun

This week at writers group we were given the theme of the Green hat, to write a poem about. It made me think of a leprechaun, so here is what I wrote.

 

All with a green hat upon my head,

A black buckled belt and shoes,

and my lovely, velvet lined bright green coat.

I’ll feed my giant goat.

I can survive in a moor,

Yet I love the forest,

my home I find in a small dry cave,

I cannot say that I am brave.

People call me pigmy.

I am the son of an evil spirit,

yet I myself am not wholly evil,

nor am I wholly good.

I do partake in a little mischief.

My cousin is the Pixie,

My uncle a sprite.

I long for the night,

I live for the day.

I am a solitary creature,

my beard a big feature.

Folklore will say I am a trickster,

a practical joker,

don’t hit me with that poker,

I’m here to mend a shoe, or two.

I’ll guard my pot of hidden gold,

in the heat or in the cold.

At the end of the rainbow,

Where all winds shall flow

and the golden water glow.

The wealth of treasure,

buried in a time of old,

War time, no peace,

that me and mine have uncovered and appropriated.

If you should be lucky and capture me,

Three wishes will I grant to thee,

all in exchange for my freedom.

But be warned, I am a trickster,

by name and by nature.

All this I am,

with a green hat upon my head,

I shall never be found dead.

for as long as one still believes,

this world is where I shall live.

 

 

The Library

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Just finished the last of my Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth series, so sad I have finished, he needs to write more. Reading American Gods now before I watch the show. Here’s a poem of mine, about the Library.

I’m having visions.

I see people,

people I’ve known my whole life,

people I grew up with.

Literary Characters,

Fantasy, magic.

Alice, Wallace, The BFG,

Tom Sawyer, Dobby, Merlin,

and Bilbo.

They walk out of my library

and smiling, they hold out there hands to me.

I fall to my knees,

tears spilling down my cheeks.

Then, I rise and go with them,

willingly, to their world,

to my world,

where I belong.