Wise Words Wednesday: July 8, 2020

Darling, there is no one metaphor that can define you. You are a world unto yourself!

Some positivity for today. I rarely use my own stuff for Wise Words Wednesday but I guess this is inspiring. It always is for me. Hope you have a great day and a great week ahead. Art by @callmealyne on Instagram.

I am posting my poetry and pieces on Instagram daily and some tidbits about my life too.

Not Alone!

“Darling, it’s okay. You don’t have to face the world alone. “
Being an independent person is cool and all but sometimes you need to accept the help. Doing the tough stuff with someone beside you always gives you strength and power to face more. Thanks for reading. Art by @elesq

-Saloni.

Connection

The world is our oyster.
And we wander looking for a bond
A connection that completes us
The same face to wake up to at dawn.


Written for the 26th day of October for the #31DaysofGratitude over on Instagram. I’m posting daily on my Instagram account and giving life updates through my stories. You can follow me there. This is the freshest post on Insta and on the blog both.

Have a great day!

Pride, Strength and Resilience

“If you are a woman, if you’re a person of colour, if you are gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, if you are a person of size, if you are a person of intelligence, if you are a person of integrity, then you are considered a minority in this world.

And it’s going to be really hard to find messages of self-love and support anywhere. Especially women’s and gay men’s culture. It’s all about how you have to look a certain way or else you’re worthless. You know when you look in the mirror and you think ‘oh, I’m so fat, I’m so old, I’m so ugly’, don’t you know, that’s not your authentic self? Continue reading “Pride, Strength and Resilience”

Hallowed By Time.

Every once in a while
I pop in to see
The lone hut with the withering bent oak
The house with the cracking ceiling
The roadside solitary sedan that was
Once an expensive car-on-four-working-wheels.

The broken bench in a park,
The leaf from a low, bent branch.
The dead of a pigeon’s nest.
The dying of the humans rest.

The buried old in my home,
The ragged rolled in your dome,
The distressed dump at my house,
The carefully clumped in your shroud.

Once in a while I try to see,
Twice of these days, I long to see.
The love in the eyes of the old.
The longing for every one of their own.

The sweat in each brick of the crumbling house,
The bee hive along the sides of the hut.
The birds making nest in the ye old oak.
The dog making home in the vintage baroque.

I see the impaired ant that waits
for its sunrise death when weak,
It drinks the last dew drop that
hangs from the dwindling pale sprig.

I venture daily,
only looking for reasons,
I see everything going,
advancing to the heavens.
Living by the day,
and season to season.

Slowly encumbered, Ultimately ageing,
Finally defeated, definitely dying,
Ultimately succumbing to the
Dreaded death wish defined.

o-CAR-570

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