I wanted that one
but it broke
(brittle Britain)

Join in with the last hymn
before supper is served.

I am reading from Deuteronomy
part fiction, part history
the theologians hold it to
be true
but there's a book about them too
so they would do,

all in the mix together
putting the fix in
whatever.

This is unfinished poetry
if you don't like it
talk to me, but
I can't promise
I'll listen.

Mother's are always there
To guide and protect you
They want nothing but the best
To see you strive and shine through
Mother's show that they care
Thoughts of you will always be in her heart
As you go through your life
Just know that mom was there from the start

I peeled some eggs today.
No metaphors or tricky language today, no.
I boiled them, drained them,
and let them cool.
I cracked the first one on the ***
and then held it over the trashcan.
As soon as I dug my thumb into it,
I knew they were perfect.
I had put enough salt in the water
to make them easy to peel,
just how Momma taught me.
I used the edge of the shell
against my thumb and applied force
perpendicular while using my other
thumb to hold the shell and egg opposite my target
in place.
I dug my thumb into that thin film
just far enough not to grab the egg,
but far enough to get the shell.
I had it off in a couple of motions,
only one minor flaw that was my
own carelessness.
I lost myself for a while.
Rosco came sniffing around,
my dog looking for a snack as always.
My phone lit up beside me -
it was her.
We're taking it as slow as southern molasses.
It's nice.
I cracked one egg and pulled the shell off
perfectly in half.
I was awestruck.
I mangled one badly
so I decided to eat it.
Yum! Still warm.
I made too many anyway.
Yeah, that's all.
I peeled some eggs today.

The reason I write is to expand upon every aspect
that collects in the drainage point of unchecked
emotions. Its an avenue where I expand all my
sentiments, my thoughts I need to readily preoccupy.

Even though I'd never admit it, sometimes I need
to create words of reflections that have to be freed.
These are the opposite of what I see beyond my pools
of thought coalescing, when writing there are no rules.

We can all hide behind our manifestations, never showing
ourselves. For the reader is always seeking what is unknowing.
I write on blank slates for others to guess what is imagination
and the reality of my syllables all melting in cognitive dictation.

"I have many reasons to spill my introspections on
            every eye to see. For what is a word if not a dawn
in the sunrise of others eyes. I ink the words before there gone"

Cleaving droplets from a composition
of stagnating hues, decomposing but
still useful as canvas coloured smiles.
Death brings emotion to faces void.

Everyone that is used are unique in the
smearing of what flowed like a petrifying
eye liner. Now broken vessels that divorce
emotion from there being unto another.

There are no smiles here,
           just a covering of falseness.
For without the colour of others
       he laughs at the bleached expression.

"Who needs smiles,
                        when you can paint others on brighter"

Look onward out towards the crashing waves of the sea.
It's there I dare to compare the rock holding form upon the crystal reef.
Compare to whom for there is no capable being upon this Earth holds claim to equal such
I know only one strong enough to withstand those  violently crashing waves , my hero , my daddy, his back totes the weight of the world every day , this rock standing firm in the heart of the crystal reef, holds little force to compare
Journey with me for your eyes won't believe
Young but recalling the blizzard one winter my hero, my daddy that returned from the mountain
Eyes of sky blue shining through crystals of icicle hanging from his lashes, his face purple from the wicked freeze of sleet.
I peered with pain while my mother laid warmth over my hero's frozen face, it was the rock in the reef that cold winter's day far across the fierce mountain snow he tracked to provide a meal a for his family
A wife and four girls , a back that had been broken not one but three times , I couldn't hold the tears in my eyes as my bus passed him walking as it drove me to school  there was no money for a vehicle, my hero, my daddy, five miles to and five miles home, every  single day for over six months and never missed a day , walked with his *******  back to provide for us
His hands were covered with hard labor of his life as the mines collapsed sparing his life as it ripped his finger away
His job led him underground just miles from hell for to long
Turning his lungs to it's likeness of the coal
Three days went by what seemed forever as the rubble they lifted from that mine was like holding a gun to the head of the men trapped in below
For the chance of that bullet one wrong move would send the mine and it's beings far beneath the earth to never be found.
We glared at the pile of rubble they said time was running out
Wait what does that mean as the families begin to weep
When all of the sudden the minor let out the words that sounded angelic to my ears, Men I see a light shining in the hole and it's coming towards me.
I could see as what looked in the form of a man but was covered with black from the coal the light from his hard hat turning side and up and down as he had one man on his shoulder he lifted him out and disappeared to retrieve the other men still down in that deep dark hole. One by one my hero my daddy brought them to their safety , this my friend is the rock from the reef that can withstand the crashing waves,  the man that tracked through a freezing blizzard to make sure his family ate, and the man that returned the husband's home safe to their family's from the depths of hell that day Always and forever this man will be , My Hero , My Daddy!
©kimmied1105

I'm as lonely as a station at night.

The december mist and the moon
peaking high over the iron fence
dulled the low volt into weird halo.

But like bats I reap the rewards of night.

The buzz of the crickets rose in crescendo
from the undergrowths around the track
sounding as unreal as the silent platform
abruptly cropping up on nowhere land
doubtful if ever a train would notice it.

Days are dull actings dancing to strings
yielding nothing to let you know you.
I'm in full vision before the lightless mirror
opening up alone but with the many faces
the dreary day ruthlessly hid from me.

The mist was engulfing the iron railings
and when a distant engine whistled
there was no track or platform
but only the lone flyer hung on the moon
like a bat glued to the scent of night.