Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is…
How beautiful! I’d love to sing these words like a hymn in church. They are so lyrical, lovely, inspiring and true.
Just finished at the dentist
I have a friend who works there
No cavities
Hooray!
My smile is as shiny as it ever gets
Polished and gleaming
As I head to the mall
To return some things that didn’t fit
And find some things that will this time
Long sleeves
For my family of boys
And maybe something to go
under the Christmas tree
For them…
And maybe me
We shall see
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell.
Joan Crawford (via spycnsweet)
A poem written for a friend
through thick and thin, always trueA most loving, giving, caring soul
someone special, someone like youWilling to take, preferring to give
laughing in the sun, splashing in the rainEver reminding me to feel it all
the love, the tears, the joy, the painEach…
I thought of Q, and his, “Monday rawks!” Facebook posts, followed by every other day as the week went on. Morning People. We gotta stick together. 🙂
he touches me
gently
sweetly
lovingly
close enough
at bedtime
to share my pillow
hand in my hair
arms around me
sitting close
on the couch
hand in mine
as we walk outside
or listen
side by side
in church
wiping my tears
as they fall silently
sometimes
my youngest son
what a good man
he will grow to be
loving
thoughtful
insightful
a poet himself
who knows already
how to
heal a hurting heart
soothe frazzled nerves
and show love
with small touches
that mean the world
in the moment
and in the memories
the power of touch
© 2011 Turquoise Tangles
I awake.
Poetry on the brain.
Paper and pen
My good ol’ friend
How I’ll love you to the end
The written word
Brings me endless joy
Typing may be fun
But writing is what I love
Because my mind is not distracted
By the tapping of the keys
Or the pressure to be
Just as good as the rest
Instead, every word I write
And every mistake I erase
Makes my inspiration soar
I find that I can’t stop
My pen the tire of my thoughts
Leaving black tracks
On the untouched snow of paper
It seemed to me that she was a person stuck inside a house made out of small cut paper squares. She was the only thing in the house, and when people finally looked inside, each person saw one side of her. They looked in through row after row of picture windows and unearthed giant pieces of her….
I write.: It seemed to me that she was a person stuck inside a house made out of…
“Dear Tummy, sorry for all the butterflies.
Dear Pillow, sorry for the tears.
Dear Heart, sorry for the damage.
Dear Brain, you were right.”
Turquoise Tangles 