Poetry, writing, drawing, painting and more.
April is poetry awareness month. Poetry gets a bad rap. Why? Why do people hate poetry so much? According to Medium.com, here are their top 6 reason why people hate poetry:
It’s old/ dead.
It’s nerdy.
It’s elitist, snobbish, stuck-up, or exclusive.
It’s boring.
It’s hard.
It never really interested
Thank you for reading.
Have you written a poem lately?
3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,
Passion can be defined in many ways.
It runs deep within our veins.
~
Passion can be toward many objects.
Music, art, words, places, spaces, people, or things.
~
Passion can run wild.
Like a mountain stream just after the rain.
~
Passion can be a lovers embrace.
Hot, wet bodies intertwined.
~
Passion, never underestimate its power.
The driving force behind great things.
~
Passion, a forced to be reckoned with.
Once defined and elevated.
~
Passion, thunder and lightning have no greater power,
than a passion driven human.
~
When we truly learn where our passion lies,
there are no limits to the things we will do.
~
Or the things we will try,
to keep our passion alive.
~
Passion defines us. Owns us. Invigorates us.
Turns our lives inside out.
~
Finding passion can be as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack.
But once it’s located, passion can be a greater force than Pompeii.
~
Passion can smother us. Blind us. Bind us. Turn our world inside out.
~
Passion is a force to be reckoned with.
Wrecked with.
Birthday
Oscar really didn’t expect anything from his family on his birthday. He usually just got a card or a phone call. Depending on how his mother was feeling. His brother didn’t even bother to sign it; his mother signed everyone’s name to it. This year because of the ‘blow up’, he received no attention from his family. He was a little depressed as he walked toward his SUV. Birthdays had never been a big deal for him. But still no one wants to be ignored on their birthday.
Esther had been checking to see if he was taking his medicine for his ulcer. She would ask him from time to time how it was doing. However, lately, she was making sure he took it. There was a note on his SUV; did you take your medicine today? Ess
He was a little unnerved about how she was able to get on school property. Nonetheless, it made him smile.
When he got home, he thought about going over to Esther’s. He stood in the drive way staring at her house. His phone chimed, alerting him that he had a text message. It was from Esther and read ‘roses are still red. I’m still confused if violets are blue. Get your butt over here. I’ve got things for you’.
As he opened the door, his ears were filled with the soft sounds of music. His nose flooded with the smell of food. When he walked into the kitchen, his jaw dropped. Bell, Chet and Esther started singing Happy Birthday to him. He could have cried. Esther had fixed a salad and chicken, broccoli, fettuccine, alfredo with garlic bread.
“Please forgive me,” Bell spoke, “but what are these little black things on top of the fettuccine?”
Esther smile, “shaved truffles.”
“Why would you put chocolate on top of pasta?” Chet frowned.
“It’s true. Truffles are amazing desserts but in this case the truffles are mushrooms.”
“Really,” Chet was shocked.
“Taste it and see what you think.” Esther encouraged.
Oscar took a big bite. “I never really cared for mushrooms but these are good.”
She waved her fork at him, “stick with me buddy, I’ll change your world.”
He laughed a laugh that she sorta heard at Christmas. It was deep, clear and came from a place that hadn’t created a laugh in years. “Too late, you already have.” He smiled.
Throughout dinner he didn’t eat much. Esther knew why. She just prayed this wouldn’t hurt him.
Chet and Bell smiled at each other as well. It was wonderful to see their friend in such a great frame of mind.
Everyone ate and talked for hours. Oscar had forgotten about the disappointment of his family and enjoyed the accompaniment of his friends and the woman he loved.
After dinner, Esther instructed everyone outside. It was a warm May evening and she was going to make sure it didn’t go to waste. The road in front of their homes was well lit by two lights; one either side of the road. She uncovered a c.d. player and that Kenny Chesney song they first dance in the snow to started playing.
“You do realize,” Oscar took her hand and led her to the middle of the road. “When we get married, we will be dancing to this song.”
“You think?” They started dancing in the street lamp. “What if I have an objection to that?”
He held her close, “what objection would that be?”
“I think it should be the song we dance our first dance too.”
Bell and Chet finally joined them. They weren’t bad dancers in their own right.
The song and the tempo changed, “guess what?” Bell shouted, “we are dancin’ in the street.”
They danced for a couple hours. After they said their goodbyes and left, Oscar flopped down on the couch. “Oh, that was amazing.”
“Mr. Patterson,” she lifted his feet, placing them on her lap, then removed his shoes and socks; massaging his feet.
He moaned with delight, “that feels good.”
“How was your day?”
“Long. Yours?”
“Full of nervous energy planning for your dinner.”
He opened his eyes in shock, “nervous. About what?”
“It always makes me nervous cooking for other people.”
“Sweetheart, it was delicious.”
“Thanks.” She blushed, “I really hope it doesn’t hurt you.”
“So far so good.” He smiled, “I just feel pressure like I’ve eaten too much.”
“You will tell me if anything changes.”
“I will.”
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https://whendeadlinesbecomezombies.wordpress.com/
Thank you for responding.
Good afternoon everyone. Here is a new, what am I picture. Hint: I can be found outside.
If no one gets the right answer, I’ll give you another clue tomorrow.
Happy guessing.
❓
This the last: what am I? The two things are not related.
L4 and L5
Oscar hadn’t had any more trouble with his back, that Esther knew about.
They went on a walk to the lake. Oscar held her hand, playing with her fingers as they walked. As they turned from the main road onto the dirt path leading to the lake, he cleared his throat. “I went to the doctor.” He stopped talking.
Should she say something? When she looked at him, he was staring at his feet. “What did the doc say?”
“He asked me if I played sports when I was a child? That I have the spine of an 80 year old. The damage he saw on the initial x-rays was just like damage he saw in patients that had started playing sports from the ages 2 or 3.”
“Have you ever played a sport?”
“I wasn’t allowed.”
They made it to the lake and sat on the bench. He was still holding her hand. “L4 and L5 are bulging outward. I can only guess from constantly bending over at the waist. Picking up things that were much too heavy for me.” He paused, “doc was shocked that I haven’t had problems before now and was adamant that things will only get worse.”
He wouldn’t look at her, couldn’t. After several minutes of silence, he walked to the edge of the water. She gave him a couple minutes before following him. “How am I going to be an effective lover if I’m afraid every time we get intimate that I’m going to seize? That I can’t love you like I want too?”
“What kind of lover would I be if I made you do all the work?” His entire body tingled. She touched his arm, “physical pleasure is a big piece of the love package. But it isn’t everything. I don’t want that lingering fear in the back of your mind. Every time you touch me, that things are going to backfire.” She touched his face, “Oscar.” He looked at her with big tears rolling down his cheeks. “We will work through things as they happen.” He hugged her up. “Plus, you’re forgetting one very important fact.”
“What’s that?” He snubbed.
“I don’t like sex.” She teased.
He tried to laugh only to end up coughing.
Less? Worthless! Useless!
Oxygen thief! Move over!
Others are in need!
🌏
I was listening to a video on YouTube the other day by Alux.com and they used the phrase ‘oxygen thief’. It’s been sitting in my iPhone notes, waiting for the right moment to come out and play. My readers might see this again. 😉
Last night
The urge to pee forced him to get out of bed. His entire body ached. Where was she? She wasn’t in the bed with him. After he painfully went to the bathroom, he went back to the bedroom, there she sat in the bed.
“How are you feeling?” She smiled at him.
“What happened last night?” He sat down beside her.
“I’m not really sure. But I think you might have had a panic attack while I was consuming with your feet.”
“Tell me.” He looked at her. His expression was confused.
“For a while, I know you were enjoying yourself. But I could feel the change in your body. So I stopped. You began to breathe like a marathon runner so I held you. I tried talking to you.”
“Did you kiss the top of my head?”
She smiled, “yes.”
“I’m so embarrassed.”
She put her hand over his. “Please don’t be. Maybe I tried to do too much and your body just didn’t know how to react? I remember you really were enjoying yourself.” She blushed, “sorry. Was I too aggressive?”
“Heavens no,” he sighed. “At some point, it felt like I was in a whirl. I couldn’t focus on anything. Not the pleasure. I knew you were talking but I had no idea what you were saying. I even felt you put your arms around me.” He sat there almost in shock.
“Is that what your panic attacks usually feel like?”
“Yeah,” he moved to face her. “I don’t want this to stop us from trying to do that again.”
She caressed his face, “okay. May I ask what a panic attack feels like?”
He looked stunned for a moment. “What is the worst situation you’ve ever been in?” She just kinda looked at him. “No, what is the most out of control situation you’ve ever been in?”
She drew her mouth to one side as she thought about his question. The things she couldn’t talk about was pretty scary but not out of control.
He raised an eyebrow. “Really, you’ve never had anything happen that was out of control?”
“I work really hard not to lose control. I’ve never been drunk for that reason. I’ve been scared as hell.”
“Okay, take that situation where you were scared; put yourself in the dark and spinning. And add a few strobe lights for effect.”
She stared into nothingness as she tried to put herself in the situation that he described. “Hmmm, no.”
He shrugged his shoulders, “that’s the best I can do.”
“No, I mean no. I can’t imagine the scariest situation I’ve ever been then being in the dark, with strobe lights and spinning. It would be horrifying. Being scared usually means you are jacked on adrenaline. Your nerves are on full alert. No. That’s horrible.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I try so hard to focus on something. Anything. Last night, I tried to focus on the sound of your voice. I knew you were talking to me but I had no idea what you were saying. But it didn’t work. I just kept spinning out of control.”
“What usually sets them off?”
“Everything, anything.”
“What can I do?”
He smiled, more to himself than to her. “Don’t let me hurt you or myself.”
“I can do that.”
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