when you search for me among the stars that fall don’t be disappointed that i was never there at all i was always the dust you shook off i was the air that you ignored i was the forgotten ray of sunshine before you left for the last time   in the sadness that contains … Continue reading maybe

Mission Statement – Writing Challenge September 2018

Writing Challenge September Still Open! Thank you to those who have submitted! Most large corporations have a mission statement indicating the service they provide, what they stand for and what they aspire to be in a community. We are writers, almost like an organisation ourselves; we too should have a mission statement too. Our writing … Continue reading Mission Statement – Writing Challenge September 2018

Intertwined – I Do Run

I am not ashamed to say I cried reading this, thank you for writing this

I Do Run

(Written in response to the #PicandaWord weekly challenge prompt, from Pix to Words, 12/25/16.)

The woman I am

Is the woman I was

The quiet one

The smart one

The bookworm

The one who ran a high school mile in 20 minutes

The woman I am

Is the woman I was

The hands in my back pocket,

I can conquer the world,

Let the party begin,

I can pull off an A paper in 4 hours Co-ed

Who wasn’t self aware enough

Who wasn’t practiced enough

To know alcoholic lies

The woman I am

Is the woman I was

The trusting in a good world

How did this happen to me

Despite my negative words

Against my feminist will

It must be my fault

Forgive me, understand me lover.

The woman I am

Is the woman I was

The grieving mother

The don’t get too close so it…

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Who am I? – Jane

of cheesecakes and dresses and fighting for a better world, here’s Jane’s poem

Making it write

You ask me who I am,
this fool whose home-made skin
once glistened
with a million shades
of fake and real, incorporating
all the human I hungered to be
and wished to be envisaged in me;
this fool who
from a distance, glowed,
yet seen up close,
singed the eye.

You ask me who I am;
this woman so deeply seared
by uncertainty.
I can tell you I erred,
and that in erring,
I learned to learn,
crawling toward the cure
as each vain expectation,
each flaking fantasy,
each false pretence
was slaked away,
leaving me both less and more.

You ask me who I am
as I watch my multi-coloured dream-coat
shrink to flickering embers,
surrendered by my own hand
to the questing flames
of questioned truth.

You ask me who I am;
I’ll tell you what I know.
Old flesh shows through the vest
my mother dressed me…

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Introductions – Liz

Liz has much truth to share

Unoriginal (love) noteS

It’s all about “me”

An important question in question

Pretending or genuine wish to discover

it matters little

when I don’t want to uncover “me”.

Thus, I deflect

waxing poetics and practising polemics

to avoid looking straight into the heart of the matter

on the off-chance that I do posses one

despite the fact that the swamp

that swallowed poison, like candy

and tricked and beheaded

its own demons for wicked amusement

pushing away the opportunities for redemption

to see what will happen next

and if the bottom is lower than saints predicted,

consumed the pulse a long time ago

and for years there was none,

allowing the depth of abyss to grow

and consume passions, forcing out

envy, regret, hate, love and even pain

leaving but a still indifferent greyness

that is lazily clutching to moral

which is not respected nor believed in

just for the sake of clinging,

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