A bubble,
Delicate,
Ephemeral,
I float and dance,
Carried on the wind
Yet not her plaything –
Guided and suggested,
I glide.
I fear to stop,
For I am weary.
Rising again
Will be laborious.
But oh how I long to pause,
To rest a moment in the warmth of the sun,
To taste again of a gentle breeze.
I will stop –
Tomorrow,
Most certainly tomorrow.
Now I must press on.
Our Baking Will Blow Your Mind
A Space for Fellowship
Just a regular guy who is interested in everything
And here I am, Judith Clarke, writer.
Turning Tears and Laughter into Words
Or whatever I came up with whilst eating cereal this morning
Poetry, music, creative writing and a desire to inspire....Isaiah 45:2-7 I will go before you and will level the mountains[a]; I will break down gates of bronze and cut through bars of iron. 3 I will give you hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord
poems, and poems again
Epic Tales of Tiny Adventures
literary fictions, flashes, fiascos
The heart has to be able to act against itself. (m.m.)
Finding my way back out of motherhood -- while mothering
"Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of pure imagination" Willy Wonka, 1971
Life is beautiful. And there is so much to be grateful for.
A work in progress
Art, Text, Code, Design
January 26th, 2014 at 10:51 am
Love it!!
January 26th, 2014 at 12:09 pm
Thank you for stopping by.
It turns out
That I did not rest,
After all –
Although Thursday looks promising.
January 26th, 2014 at 12:13 pm
I bet you are an interesting man, dtdeedge.