Writer’s Quote: Mother’s Smile

Writer’s Quote: Mother’s Smile

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It’s another Wednesday, which means, it’s time for Writer’s Quote and Poem. I noticed on Facebook, a lot “happy Mother’s Day” was trending about two days ago. I guess it was Mother’s Day in my side of the world. In honours of that, I would like to dedicate today’s quote and the poem below, written by Michael Burch, to all the parents striving and sacrificing,  with their time, their sweat and their little wealth to make sure their children always have enough and more, with regards love and happiness. I hope you like the poem below.

Mother’s Smile by Michael Burch
For my wife, Elizabeth Harris Burch, and my mother, Christine Ena Burch

There never was a fonder smile
than mother’s smile, no softer touch
than mother’s touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than “much.”

So more than “much,” much more than “all.”
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother’s there, nor how we reach

from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.

There never was a stronger back
than father’s back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,

then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother’s tender smile
will leap and follow after you!

A very different Post!

A very different Post!

“no matter how tough the world becomes, you must never run out of sweetness”- Bernadokath. That said, let’s spread a little love and sweetness to a dear blogger friend and his daughter who is the definition of a fighter. Please give this a read, and spread a little love today

A Dog's Life? (Stories of me and him)

This is a very different Post from my usual literary meanderings, as it focuses on my daughter Melanie.

She was diagnosed with a brain tumor 10 years ago and, as it was not possible to surgically remove all of it, she has had considerable chemo and radiation treatments.  Sadly, while those treatments have no doubt kept her alive, there are numerous long term side effects which dictate that she cannot perform regular work functions, and is therefore dependent on benefits from her disability provider.

When she is up to it, she uses her time volunteering for a non-profit program that coaches people who are fighting poverty.

Melanie has always been a fighter but, being unable to earn an income, she is struggling to cover her basic living costs.  When I was in N. Vancouver last October, he spirits were quite high, but she was obviously concerned about paying her monthly…

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The Pokemon Go book tag 

The Pokemon Go book tag 


Yesterday, I came across a fun Pokemon Go book tag on TheJouskaBlog which was originally created by Read at midnight and thought I’d try it out too. So Here goes:

 

Hands down, To kill a mockingbird by Harper Lee. I’ve read this book multiple times and with every read, I fall more in love with the story and the characters as well.


Six seconds by Rick Mofina. This is the first Rick Mofina book I could not finish reading. 


No book comes to mind at the moment, who knows, maybe I’ll remember later .


This one is easy- All the lights we cannot see by Anthony Doer. It’s been sitting on my shelf for over a year now. 


There are quite a few actually. But one of my favourite is Three by Ted Dekker. If you are looking for a psychological thriller, then I recommend this book. You won’t be disappointed. 


So, I had to google “OTP” to find out its meaning. Apparently, it means “one true pairing”. I don’t believ I have one. 


Ohhhh Seige by Simon Kernick. This book is on fire!


Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers and st Clare’s . Also, Regan Reilly Mysteries by Carol Higgins Clark 


Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Even though this book was published in 1818, I only read it a few months ago. Needless to say, I Absolutely loved it and would not mind reading it all over again.


That would be none.


Malory towers and st Clare’s by Enid Blyton.


Well, not forever, but I am excited for the realease of the 3rd book in David Baldacci’s Amos Decker series. The first two are- The Last mile and Memory Man and they were simply awesome.


Mary Higgins Clark, I don’t believe any of her books disappoint and also, Simon Kernick.

On a side note, I don’t really have an idea as to what this Pokemon Go game is about?! (Tell me I’m not the only one living under a rock). And, That’s it, my book tag answers. Take up the questions if you’d love to, I’ll be looking forward to reading your answers.

Chasing Love…

Chasing Love…

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I think, the more you chase love, the more it gains energy and eludes you. The more you want it, the more it runs off. Love becomes this person who seems to enjoy the thrill of the chase more so than being caught; its mastered the art of evasion and just when you think, maybe, this is it- love has a way of getting one over you, it does so skillfully, taking with it pieces of you and leaving several irregular gaping holes.

And despite, despite the tumultuous ride and the many bumps on the road, we still chase love. We still get on the ride, despite knowing we may be left with even less pieces of ourselves than when we started. What does that say about love? What does that say about us? That we need it, maybe not as much as the oxygen we breathe, but still, as a necessity if we want to “live” not simply “exist”. And sometimes, this love that we’re chasing, isn’t hiding out with someone else; sometimes, this love is within ourselves and we’re simply driving through the wrong paths. I mean, how else can we fill the hole in someone else’s heart when ours is half filled yearning for us to fill it. And maybe, these are the lessons that love teaches us through its eventful journey.

The above image is courtesy of OrdinaryGirl

On Loss-

On Loss-

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There is no preparation, no test; neither assignment nor hint to prepare us for certain things in this world. We see tales of tragedies and its almost always someone else’s family, no one expects its going to be theirs. No one prepares for that. And then it happens.
The dreaded phone call which brings our carefully crafted glass house of security, crashing with one single statement- “I’m sorry”.

Sorry. And you wonder what they are sorry for. Sorry for the fact they couldn’t save “her”, sorry that it was too late, sorry there’s little they they can do to appease your pain, sorry that they have to be the bringer of bad news, or simply sorry for the departure of another beautiful soul from the world.

There is no preparation, no practice… In that Moment, you either walk across the broken shards feeling the loss with every stinging sensation or, you stare unmoving, long and hard at the broken pieces. Nothing can prepare you for that split second reaction. You either grieve or you don’t…

The above image is courtesy of: Campus health.unc

Not a writer-

Not a writer-

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To the one who reads my poems and praises them behind my back. I heard all about you today. No names were mentioned, but, it had to be you. We haven’t spoken in forever, we used to talk everyday, remember?  I hear you want to know how, I’m sorry but there Is no how… I just read and write. I know, it might not make much sense to you, it doesn’t make much sense to me either. I’m not a writer… I just write.

You made my day, and through this blabbering, that’s all I really want to say. I know you didn’t say it to my face, maybe you couldn’t. Why? Is a question for another day. For now, all I have to say is thank you.

You may not read this… I hope you do.

I Trusted you-

I Trusted you-

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The truth is- it’s not love that screwed me over; a repressed memory which surfaced turning my life upside down; or a cry for help gone unanswered… It was just one thing, trusting you.

Trust me, you’ll say. Each time a doubt crept in me, you’d echo it. Each time my insides churned at your actions, you’d utter those two words.

Trust me… and I trusted you. More than my self, more than my gut instinct. Over any friend, family, outsider, I trusted you! How could I not. You put a ring on my finger and a baby in my womb. How could I not trust the one I considered half of me, “my better half”, we were starting a family together- I trusted you.

I should have trusted the way your eyes wandered off each time we were out together; I should have trusted the way your nose flared and your fists battled with the walls; I should have trusted the “but” buzzing in my head when it was time to say I do. I didn’t, and the should haves are eating at what’s left of my soul.

Trust me, you’ll say. And I did, when I should have trusted in the creator , the one who made you from dust. Now, I know better than to take your words for more than they truly are- a grain of salt.

The above Image is courtesy of Lovethispic.com

A speck of dust-

A speck of dust-

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To the boy I gave my heart….
It wasn’t your fault, I fell in love with you. It just happened, as all love do. I take the full blame for that. You had a gift of making the bitterest things taste like honey and the hopeless, feel like the duchess of England. You made a lady out of me and gave me the push to chase my dreams. You made me oblivious to the truth staring Bulls eyes in front of me. At the centre of it all, was “You”.

You needed a lady, and turned me Into one. You needed a trophy and pushed me to success. And there I was, thinking “oh, but he loves me”. And you did, you loved who I was turning into. You loved who I had become. But how couldn’t you, “you made me”.
I guess even a genius isn’t immune to Love’s trick.

And it took too long a time to realize the world revolved around one person in that mind of yours and that person was “You”, anything else was a speck of dust. I, was a speck of dust In your galaxy. A dust which had now evolved into a diamond, gleaming after your destruction. Some might call it success, but you still won didn’t you. You took along that piece of flesh enclosed within my rib cages when you left.

P.S a work of fiction .

The above image is courtesy of Those brown eyes.tumblr

Broken-

Broken-

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The words he said left an echo which has only now, begun to fade.
“I didn’t break you, you were already broken”. It felt like a hundred pins were stuck into me all at once, with my body’s gating mechanism shut down so that I could feel the pain in every cell of every part of my body. He broke my heart, but it was my whole body which fell apart.

“Broken”- he called me. I was damaged, damaged goods with no value. I spent a long time trying to make sense of that word. A little longer, I spent on anyone who could fix- broken. God, I hated that word.

I wish I could say- that I realized the words he spoke that night were false, lies and nothing more but I can’t. I’m only just now learning, maybe he was right; maybe I am broken; but I am so done waiting around for him to come and fix me.

The image above is courtesy of Lost Treasures found.com

I’m Done-

I’m Done-

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I’m done. How many times I’ve said that word and betrayed the very essence of it. But there’s only so long I can hold on to our broken pieces before the shards imprint a permanent infirmity. No, I am not done. I will be, but i’m not. I’m just getting started. I might leave for a day and slip back for an hour; leave for two days and slip for some minutes; leave for a week and slip back for a few seconds. I’d keep leaving and slipping untill there is nothing left to slip back to- I have arrived at my destination and I am done, done with you.
But until then, I am just getting started…

image credit: waterdropsonmywindow.wordpress