Bewildered

His chubby looks
and a heart
brimming with love
he wants to share
his treats with
anyone he could

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Haiku on Trust

A relationship
Is closer when built on trust.
Fear builds calluses.

Weighty Words

How can a word cut to my core?
Slicing and slashing its swooping sword,
It amputates limb and severs artery;
Once under my skin, it becomes a part of me. 

Fervently it festers unseen and unheard,
Eluding a simple diagnosis of words,
Invading my mind, body, and spirit
Until we are one, and I’ve come to fear it. 

Sand And Grit

Poem by Wendy Norman (Seafarrwide)

The clouds drifted across the sky as I gazed from my little bed up so high

A sense of aloneness crept over me I was just a mere sweet child of three

Children would push and taunt me so sometimes pointing and telling me go

The Bully

There is no need

For your snide remarks

And shaming retorts

I already feel

Like a pathetic loser

There is hardly any

self-esteem

Left in me

To disagree or fight you

I rather agree with you.

Just not good enough

http://derekjonesart.blogspot.co.uk/

It hurts his voice cuts through me and I bleed, bleed stress.

This can of worms is open again and I am up to my neck in mess.

Never never , you find ME doing that .

Desserts is Stressed spelt backwards

http://delicatelittlebirds.files.wordpress.com/

Look at those cushions, they are not straight. The dust on this coffee table is inches thick. Clean it up now you lazy bitch you know mess is something I hate.

Do it now, go, move you make me feel sick.

Don’t stand there staring as if you were thick.

The kids have wrecked the bathroom,  move your arse and sort them now. I don’t give a damn about your aching head.

Where is my dinner I have been at work all day, have  you even heard a  word I have said.

This life. What life?

 

Since, all we see now is misery, pain and darkness in the world, one can imagine how pointless life’s are becoming, everyday, bullying and all such crimes or perhaps sins have flooded what we used to call, “Our Planet”. It doesn’t seem like “Our Planet” anymore, does it? Talking from the general (public) point of view, whatever is left is discrimination in this world and no one really cares about anyone unless he’s got some thick load of cash in his pockets which he’ll be kind enough to “share”? I don’t think “share” is the right word here. That’s what this short little poem (or a stanza if I don’t procrastinate and work it over) is about.

Autumn

Falling.

Falling.

Into the pit of despair
Into the trough of despondence

The boy fell.

Not a sheer drop nor steep descent
But a slow,
Painful slide.

Not a scream nor a cry
But a chorus of mocking laughter
Accompanying his stifled sobs.