Forlorn porcelain…

Cyranny's Cove

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Daisy bloom,
Pretty one,
Kiss on your cheek
From the evening’s gloom.
Porcelain skin,
Soft carnation, you sound
Like a boy’s dream
Come true.
Still the smell of
Sorrow runs in your thin hair.
What is it, in your eyes?
Doleful doll, melancholic darling,
Your silent pout
Is deafening…

Via today’S Word of the Day; Doleful

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Home.

Cyranny's Cove

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Home is a strange concept for me.

Most people need to return to their house to feel ”home”. Most people have a place where they feel grounded. I never had roots, I don’t feel any attachment to a certain place. I often got sorry looks when I tried to explain my rootlessness.

I don’t feel sorry for myself. ”Home” is wherever I put my toothbrush down.

Home is here. For now.

The flight was long, and as usual, customs were a nightmare. For some reason, no matter how light I travel, custom agents always seem to find something to investigate. This time, my light bag was the problem. Apparently, it was a bit suspicious that I didn’t bring enough clothing to fill a large walk-in.

But it is over now, and the hour long train ride gave me more than enough time to put the annoyance behind me.

Unpacking…

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[165] Time Stops In Your Arms

Smoke words every day.

You live in the past so much
I almost believed you lived in Pangea
Categorising your flaws to pick them apart
when the time comes but does the time come
for people who live in the time that’s gone
Sometimes I wonder if I existed before you
Would that be the only way of confirming
my existence for you?

For all I know I’m dramatizing you and
blowing you out of proportion
For all you know I’m a lonely guy
waiting to grab your attention
for a little while till my own attention
wanes for you and I find another one
because I live in the future

How does the past meet the future?
The present is not the right time
because our thoughts are either lingering on
you counting sheep or mine on flying electric cars
I think dreams are our meeting place
where time, as it is, doesn’t…

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A bauble for my baby

Emotional Mummy

Last year was our first Christmas as a little family. Smeckle was six months old and although she didn’t have a bloody clue what was going on, she was what made Christmas come alive again. She was a reason for the magic and the best excuse for us to relive our childhood!

She received her first letter from Father Christmas which came through the post with a packet of reindeer mix that was of course left out on Christmas Eve, accompanied by a couple of beers which managed to go down a treat! She even managed to wangle a date with the big guy himself! She was given her own elf name, Joyful Sugarsocks, along with a little elf hat and was led through the colourful grotto to receive her gift from him and his helpers. There, we had a mini photo shoot and was able to pick from the…

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Danny’s World: My Heart Is Broken For My Friends on Jost

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White Bay, Jost van Dyke BVI

 

 

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White Bay, Jost van Dyke, BVI post Hurricane Irma

If you have followed my page for any length of time you have heard me speak of a tiny little island in the BVI called Jost van Dyke.  Two friends and I have spent many a night on this little island solving the problems of the world while listening to great music and partaking of a little rum.

We have friends who work on this island, live on this island and own businesses on this island.  And now everything is gone.  The reports say 99% of all building have severe damage, with most of the 99% being complete loss.  I’m not sure what to say, but thank goodness so many are still alive.

Irma hit this little 3 sq. mile island with forces not seen in over 100 years and the results are devastating.  One Love, Ivan’s Stress Free, Soggy Dollar Bar, Corsairs are all feared to be gone.  Buildings have simply vanished.

The sad thing is most of the buildings may not be rebuilt.  Most don’t have a lot of money.  Most don’t have insurance.  I’m not sure what the future holds, but I hope the people are able to rebuild.

Sticking it to the Big U

Aria-Bella Rises

In a time when I have probably needed it the most, I have stuck my middle finger up at the Universe and Spirit. Yep it is up there high in the air and I just don’t care. Well I do but I also totally don’t.

You see one of my beloved pooches had to be put to sleep and I have been raging ever since. Deep in my grieving despair.

During the 15 hours we spent with him in doggy ICU I begged for a miracle. I called in all the big guns to surround him and heal him and it was beautiful and magical to see. But it totally wasn’t the outcome I wanted. Instead they were helping to ease his pain, to ease his transition from body to just being a soul again.

And I didn’t like it. Truly we got miracles that day. From him being on…

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Danny’s World: There’s A Spirit of a Storm In My Soul

As I sat on the beach this morning and listened to the waves crash I couldn’t help but think of how far I’ve come since I started this blog.  There was a time when I was experiencing tremendous internal turmoil.  Basically, my insides were a raging dumpster fire.  I was so lost.  Sitting there I remembered this song that was once my anthem:

“Spirit Of A Storm” – Kenny Chesney

There’s a spirit of a storm in my soul
A restlessness that I can’t seem to tame
Thunder and lightning follow everywhere I go
There’s a spirit of a storm in my soul.
There’s a hurricane that’s raging through my blood
I can’t find a way to calm the sea
Maybe I’ll find someday the waters aren’t so rushed
Right now they’ve got the best of me
And oh, it’s been a long, long time
Since I had real peace of mind
So I’m just going to sit right here
In this old chair till this storm rolls by.
Oh, maybe it’s just the way I am
Maybe I won’t ever change
So I’m just going to sit right here
In this old chair and just soak up the rain.

 

There’s a spirit of a storm in my soul
Every time I think it’s gone away
Dark clouds gather, that old wind begins to blow
The sun’s going to shine someday I hope
There’s a spirit of a storm in my soul, in my soul.

 

Dear Dad,

One of my favorites thus far on Being Lydia!

Being Lydia!

Yesterday was your birthday. You would have been 91, though you left us just shy of 87.

I spent most of the day not even thinking about you or what day it was. I was feeling rough but attributed it to physical factors, not emotional ones. Hubby didn’t realize what day it was until I put a rather cryptic note on Facebook about your birthday. He then thought that was the source of my poor health. I still wasn’t convinced you were affecting me in any way.

The truth is, Dad, I don’t know how I feel about you anymore. I know I have forgiven you for how hard you were on me and that is forever. I also know that in your last years you must have been fighting dementia, and it is my fault you weren’t diagnosed. I was afraid of you (I always was) and the others weren’t…

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Don’t Give Up

Sometimes a nice positive reminder is nice.  Not trying to be the guy handing out rainbows, chocolate chip cookies and puppies, but life isn’t always so awful either.  Chin up folk!

Source: don’t give up