Eight years old

BENT ON LOVE

When I was eight I wanted to write a novel,

But somewhere along the line between scratching for ideas and a word count,

I fell in love with poetry,

I did not give up in my ambitions but found something I did not know when I started,

See I found that everything I wanted to say in a thousand words I count in ten,

Giving colour, lustre to each word,

When I was eight I fell in love with poetry.

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Buried

Poet Rummager

Photo by FlyTrapMan

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I buried you today.

You tried to resist me.

I was able to push you down into the dirt

where I covered you, so you wouldn’t get hurt.

My tears spilled and seeped through the soil.

You felt them and understood my turmoil.

 

I buried you today.

You cause me too much pain –

an open wound that can never be repaired –

a weakness within me that should learn not to care.

I’ve hidden you deep below the earth where it’s dark.

 As I cry for you, I know it’s best we keep apart.

I’ve made a headstone and written on it in my blood:

“Rest in Peace, my fragile and fractured heart.”

To read a brooding & romantic poem about another broken heart and to visit my art, click

↪️ ↪️ ↪️ ↪️ ↪️ ↪️ ↪️ HERE ↩️ ↩️ ↩️ ↩️ ↩️ ↩️…

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The Pharaoh’s Bride

The Lonely Author

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The Pharaoh’s Bride

“Time can heal the broken heart, but it can also hurt the waiting heart.”

Darius rested underneath a weeping willow. His disheartening journey has lasted longer than time.

Five thousand years ago, he adored the woman he protected; the Pharaoh’s young bride. It started innocently, exchanging forbidden smiles and glances. 

Until, one day Aziza lost her balance and fell into his granite arms.

A week later they feasted on grapes; as they made love on the banks of the Nile beneath the radiant moonlight.

News of their secret romance reached the Pharaoh.

Beaten within moments of death, Darius pleaded with the Pharaoh. “I prefer to die a thousand deaths than to live a day without my beloved Aziza.”

Pharaoh ordered his magician, “Poison my disloyal wife. Reward her with the gift of reincarnation.”

Hot tears blended with the crimson blood upon Darius’ face.

“Let Darius live forever. He can…

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time for love

bCL Photography

time for love time for love

Harsh and cold
autumn holds to it our naked trees:
If only you would free, at least, the sparrows
from the tips of your fingers
and release a smile, a small smile
from the imprisoned cry I see.
Sing! Can we sing
as if we were light, hand in hand
sheltered in shade, under a strong sun?
Will you remain, this way
stoking the fire, more beautiful than necessary, and quiet?
Darkness intensifies
and the distant light is our only consolation —
that one, which from the beginning
has, little by little, been flickering
and is now about to go out.
Come to me. Closer and closer.
I don’t want to know my hand from yours.
And let’s beware of sleep, lest the snow smother us.

Distant light
by Walid Khazindar

Walid Khazindar was born in 1950 in Gaza City. He is considered one of the best…

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Day 1214: Relationship Managers

The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

What is a relationship manager?

I think we are all relationship managers. That is, we all manage different relationships throughout our lives.

In what ways are you a relationship manager?

One of the most important relationships I manage is that with my 18-year-old son, Aaron, who will be managing new relationships at University of Edinburgh this fall.

Yesterday, Aaron and I met with somebody who is officially a relationship manager.

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Jose, who works for our local bank, managed to improve Aaron’s relationship with money by managing to approve him for a credit card. Aaron and I told Jose we really appreciated the way he managed our financial relationships.

After we managed our new relationship with Jose, Aaron wanted to manage his relationship to some lines from a Shakespeare play he’s appearing in soon, so we rehearsed a scene where Prince Hal is trying to manage his relationship with his father…

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