To join Rochelle’s prompt press ‘here’
A hundred miles I walked. Stinking dirty miles, in shoes that didn’t fit. The right too tight, reminding me, squeezing too much in leaves little space to breathe.
The left, two sizes too big, rubbed raw my foot. It made me bleed until it seeped through the lace holes and rolled back the skin, but on I walked.
It taught me to say no, to leave room to be kind, so I can grow a better man.
It taught me, never to be too proud to admit, this is too big for me.
It needn’t hurt to learn that lesson just take an educated walk.
Thanks for the Photo @Sarah Potter
My answer to a beautiful poem left on a passing blog JAMILA MURTAZA she asks what i would tell my six year old self. read it here
After reading her poem I leave this for her. I hope you like it.
I wipe the wet from my face
and wish it wasn’t so.
But as a teen there are still
horrors you don’t know.
Things that make myself gasp
That slip through my aging grasp
hate and fear don’t belong
To a girl so very young.
I have known so very long
that love resides inside a song
And despite the pain and dying air
this world is full of loving care.
Have a wonderful week.
Do me a favour stop by her place tell her I sent you, follow and comment, fill up the space. Her talent is to be encouraged by all of us here, give her a clap give her a cheer.
leave me a comment *whispers* it feels like I’m collecting a wage. 😆
On my blog I lay a cornucopia of words. This site is a constantly replenished offering, a buffet of stories, poetry and pieces of me. This is a place I choose; to show the shape of me.
As I edit my first full manuscript and one day soon novel, I try to grow and make connections. Coming here to breathe on my blog when the edit bites my bum and frustrates me, this gives me the distraction I need. I read and reply to comments left here, many urge me on and inspire confidence; I learn from you all. I seek out more followers, visit blogs and join conversations, in hope that they/ you appreciate something I write, or maybe begin to hear my voice.
I follow places and like minded people, honest writers and bloggers with passion and soul. “I thank you from me” for accommodating me and allowing my presence in your space.
To all who share and promote and care, those that take time to comment, I drop a curtsie, bend a knee, and thank you, I recognise your talent and appreciate your time.
If I could see you all gathered in one place I would share my picnic with you all.
Now if I did, what would you bring to my blanket? Let me know in the comments. Bye for now and keep coming and sharing as I do. 😘
I Can’t Begin To Tell You,
I can’t begin to know.
What lay betwixt the pages
Of every book on show.
We have to read the story,
Let it seep beneath the skin
Of each person looking
And make them delve within.
I became a booknight giver
A sharer of the written word
A gifter of the present
And to a stranger, how absurd.
I gave away on street corners,
In shelters and in shops
I took one in the station
Left one for the Cop’s.
I acossted in the doctors
I took one to the school.
I was chased from a book shop
Looking like a fool.
Diligently, I gave them
They promised all to read.
One wanted three!
To sell and buy some weed.
I am feeling quite exhausted
But virtuous and bright.
One day it will be my book
Someone gives out on book night.
Please follow @worldbooknight on twitter.
I will review the book on my blog when I return from a short holiday in a couple of weeks.
Please let me know if you joined in were a giver a receiver or just liked my ditty.