The food of the mind
The meal of the soul
The feast of the spirit
Necessary source
We choose what we feed
Our core every day
We may think and feel
Through scraps and leftovers
Through high-quality or overpriced meals
gourmet chaos or nourishing feasts
the plain lessons of everyday treats
Shall we practice fasting
overfed hungers
On the scale of numbers
what you feed your mind matters
In one hour
a mother gives birth
someone takes their last breath
someone graduates
while someone’s failure permeates
One person sleeps
while another awakes
another human diagnosis
ill fitted prognosis
twisting the economies
plagues of humanities
sickness in the soul
health in another
healed and birthed
more than once in many forms
and we call this life
perhaps our long strayed wives
while another falls in love
and turns winters into spring
intoxicating summer breeze
the birds sing
the tides come and go
the waters of one side
can be the droughts of another
do not dispair, we all cycle
because life is forever changing
we are never really stagnant
life is forever turning tables
in all its whimsical forms
that discriminates not one
in the 60 minutes of the hour
guarantee free
Warranty Free
Rivers Run Through
We never touch the same waters
Children grow
Never the same matters
Because everything passes
Everything changes
Sometimes a thought will hang on
more than realities ever will
Escritora. Tejedora de Historias. Tlahuelpuchi. Promotora Artesanal
where all emotions are cared for!
El sitio donde encontraras recetas para ayudarte en el "Maratón de la Dieta Vegetariana Cruda"
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Krakatoa Forever My Friend
"kindness is healing, writer & poet of sorts, "
Words of Arte
Come for storytime (stay for pics)
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All is not quiet in the countryside
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
Brian Marggraf, Author of Dream Brother: A Novel, Independent publishing advocate, New York City dweller
"And if one day you see the stars disappearing, know only that my heart was amongst them." - My original poem.
what if poems could be symphonies, and people their orchestra?
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The Grind 