Falling stars

A star fell from the sky last night, and I think it may have been mine. I had it for a little while and when I Watched, It would make me smile. But I looked and looked tonight at nine, then twelve and three and six. Desperate I was and so much so I searched the entire sky; Though I knew deep down in my heart that stars can’t fly; they just fall.


I am nominated for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award by one of my favorite authors/artists Kritika! Perhaps the best part of this nomination would be the company of the other authors also nominated! I hesitate to think that of the quality of people nominated, I should be one,but I graciously accept because the nominator is such a quality poet, she must see something I have to offer! Barrira, Izza, Prateek and the rest are inspirations to me! Thank you angel! I would like to add to this list of nominations I of July, Milford Street, Annie B.


Marionettes and puppets on a string,and socks on a hand, a ventriloquists Dummy, all move to the whim of their masters beat. No choices have they, where they go or stay, no words of their own may they utter. Preprogrammed existence, the price that they pay for the continuance of this worldly stay. People sometimes play this game of sloth, far easier is life with no decisions to make. No one gets angry when all goes his way. Far better existence, it seems to me, Is available when push comes to shove, when challenge gets thrown in the face of the constituents involved in any relationship. Then at least the candidates can deem, the worthiness and intelligence and strength and compassion of that portion of self the other wishes to share. Therein lies the ability to share equally the continuity of lasting friendships, and sharing of souls.

New Sight

The dark gray clouds floating across my restless mind, wrote doom my speculation found, Doom for the Ideas to ever flow, through the conduits of a dusty brain.Punching keys bring relief, pushing recalcitrant words across an empty screen,Till imagination fueled the flow, and cool clean rain dropped from the stormy sky of conciousness, and washed the dust into rivulets, draining away the blockages of walls built to hide,the feelings trapped and hidden and kept inside. Rivulets feed streams bounding through ego and selfishness, leaving cleaner ,purer thought behind the flood that settled into the cesspool of subconciousness. Dark, gray clouds thinned: wisps lingered, then blew away, My soul arose to meet the blinding light of truth, without dreary memories and credos based on ancient ways, not bricking and damning of the the free running stream of lucidity that I embraced, and fully encompassed with fresh cognizance of where I had nearly allowed my self to stay, holding onto a dreary, nasty, cloudy, gray day.!


The No Strings Attached Award nomination gooees to ME! Thank you Kritika for believing that in some way I can influence your life in the same manner as the other FINE writers named on your list. It is an honor to be included whit this group as I follow most of them myself, and will be doing some reading to find why I am not following the others! I, in turn would like to nominate…. Millithom, who I regard as a sort of teacher, nicely giving comments but not to everything I write………..I of July. who, it seems in blogland, has turned into a high school buddy, and Aadhiri. I have come to think of her as a talented little sister, though she might not take the remark as a compliment!  Thank you again for the consideration!

Memories of…………..

Because my Mother mouthed the words, my Fathers voice was heard, because my Father did not know how, my Mother raised her brow, and made me understand that a warrior cannot be heard unless the interpreter voiced the words, because my Fathers thoughts were stern, Mothers words his thoughts discerned, because he new not how to weep, my Mothers actions showed his keep, because my Father seemed so hard, my Mother seemed so weak!

Like I would Know!

What if while grasping at straws a solid log you felt? What if the floatation it gave saved you from drowning in self, pity I suppose drives many to swim in waters where they may never have been. If your ship is not steady though I suppose, might encourage even the captain to take a dip into the unknown depths of relationships. But when the boat is sinking is it not wise, some times, to seek another vessel that floats high and dry? When is the time to abandon a leaky ship; after setting sail, or before embarking from the slip? The stories all tell that the captain must leave the ship last, but what if his mate is a fatalist?

Trouble in paradise?

Let us make a stand on politically correct, instead of seeing the people out there, let the sound of politically correct fill the nightime air. Let us stand on words and let deeds be undone, while people are suffering out there. Let us not hurt the feelings of anyone while murderers spread their wares. Lets be nice to the criminals lest we hurt their feelings somehow. Let us negotiate while children lives are at stake. Let us all pretend that this is the way of the human race!