Poetry

This used to be fun

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This used to be fun,
now it’s just painful.. .

 


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Image source: Digital Art by A ~ I.R.B
Contents compiled: April 28 2017
Originally published: April 28 2017
Copyright © 2016 Inner Ramblings Boulevard


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Poetry

Facing her fears, living her nightmares…

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Waking up on thin ice,
She tiptoes across the frozen lake of her fears
Hoping to make it safely to the other side.

She can’t swim so prays earnestly for guidance,
And with her final utterance
The ice cracks and she disappears.

Is this her deliverance or her demise?
In the depths of icy water a voice says,
“Face your fears.  It’s  the only path to safety.”

Her discovery is liberating.
She surfaces from the depths of darkness,
Takes a deep breath and dips back under the ice.

She’ll make it to shore or die trying.
Determined, she presses on imperfectly,
Not looking back, swimming with all her might.

She breaks through the shallows.
She’s tired now, resting her wary head.
The fear drips off her; she shivers.

Perhaps sleep will stay a while this time.
It’s the only escape from her fears.
But as she dozes, there’s a distant rustling.

Sleep is close but it won’t come to her.
It teases and torments her — a cruel joke.
This is the nightmare of her life…


Contents written: July 16 2016  |  Originally published: July 17 2016  |  Copyright © 2016 Moylom Enterprises


Poetry, Short Stories

Fighting back the tears

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A sad song plays on the radio.
She fights back the tears
while trying to smile
at her next customers.

The lovely couple
is oblivious to her pain.
They’re madly in love
oozing affection for each other.

She wants to throw up.
This is the last thing
she needs to see.
Is this a cruel joke?

How ironic that
she’s surrounded
by so many people
but yet feels so alone.

 


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Image source: Google images
Contents compiled: March 5 2017
Originally published: March 22 2017
Copyright © 2016 Inner Ramblings Boulevard


Uncategorized

The Quiet makes me Cold

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It’s 9:30 am.
I’m the only one awake.
I’m hungry
But the quiet lures me in.
“Stay awhile, ” it whispers,
“no need to rush.
Just enjoy our time together,
Just us!”

How could I refuse
Such an intimate request?
So I stay,
Pulling the covers up to my neck
Snuggling in to my pillow;
It knows me so well,
I smile…

I read for a while
And it smiles too
Knowing how much
These moments mean to me.
If only it knew how
To cook and other such things,
Breakfast in bed
Would have been a delight!
But alas,
Though I’m drawn to its kind —
The strong, silent type —
It cannot fulfill all my needs.
How sad…

It is then that my heart
Pines for a love lost.
The quiet always
Conjures up memories of him.
Then, as if on cue,
The chill of the room
Transfers to my body,
And I am cold
From head to toe.

For though my heart
Still beats for him
He is gone
And the loneliness
That has taken his place
Is like a fire
Whose light has been doused with water
There is no warmth left,
I’m just cold.

The quiet senses my sadness now
And walks away,
For it knows not
How to comfort me.
And as it opens the door
The noise rushes in
To save the day.
Everyone is finally awake;
My thoughts of him
Disappear temporarily,
But I’m still cold
For I miss him so…


Contents written: December 6 2015 |  Copyright 2015 Moylom Enterprises |