Sometimes Faith
Is all that holds me
When despair knocks at my door
Anxiety burdens my core
Overwhelm beckons my soul
Inability drowns my existence
Sometimes
In those moments
Life the enforcer
Pushing us to pause
The unknown is the abyss
But the unseen becomes wings
Parallel opponents
Synchronized components
Cyclical Muse
That carries me over
One more day
I Believe
Heal your mother wound
Be bold, blossom and bloom
Get over your own scorn
Transcend and mourn
Revive and be more
Heal your father scars
So they don’t become prison bars
It’s easy to blame
But much more fulfilling to aim
For a better version
Of what you should actually believe
The life you are entitled to live
vagabond of words
homeless verbs
flowing through my nouns
enunciating sounds
temporary emotions
memories in motion
whispers in the night
perhaps seeping into daylight
letters are my canvas
birth and death, my inspiration
love and loss, my intervention
life oxygenation
multicolored stations
interpretations, proclamations, improvisations
innovations, art in words
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"
research education, academic writing, public engagement, funding, other eccentricities.
WordPress & Blogging tips, flash fiction, photography and lots more!
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Krakatoa Forever My Friend
"kindness is healing, writer & poet of sorts, "
Words of Arte
Come for storytime (stay for pics)
Solutions for ANY Parent - Welcome!
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?
Blogging about a world worth loving
The Grind 