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Why I am using Fiverr,

I am selling customized poetry to any lovely person who wants to make a loved one smile.

I enjoy writing poetry and I thought why not offer my services to those who would like to write poetry but can’t.

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Horses are my Drug

I have loved horses since I was a girl.
I asked for one but of course I couldn’t have one.

 I was 12 when I was first introduced to barn work.
 I always wanted to ride.
Unfortunately I was never allowed to by my stepmother.
 She never allowed me to go to the ranch but allowed my sisters to go to work for their lessons.
 At the time I never understood why, so from there my depression thickened.
 No one knew what I was going through.

 I met my first love named Stormy.
 I brushed him once and we bonded instantly.

 He was the original horse my stepmom and dad were going to buy for my sister.
 He didn’t really like them.
 He was a grouch and so she found a different horse.
 This beautiful sorrel horse with his white face captured my heart and vise versa.

Any chance I got there at that ranch, thanks to my dad, I would run to him or the other way around.. 
I called him and he would come running.
 It was like the end of the world when I left, he would stand and whinny.
 “What did you do to that horse?” My dad asked.

What he didn’t know is every chance I was with him. 
I loved him, unconditionally and he loved me back, no doubt.
 When grooming him I would talk and vent to him wishing he was mine.
 I tried so hard to control my rage for at home my stepdad would be.
The only way I could make people see was to cry out for attention.

 13, I was afraid sometimes to go home because I never knew my stepdad’s mood.
 My mother worked three jobs to keep us fed and housed, while he would go out and drink.

 Him coming home is what I would fear the most, for fear of being bruised or worse. A three year old sister I had to watch often, doing his job instead.

 I would scrape stuff into my skin just to feel a different pain. I thought of how nice it would be to die, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so miserable. The only place I truly felt sane was that barn with the little red horse, my knight, my drug. But one day my problems got the best of me in school, as I was always in trouble.
 It was that which turned my chapter darker yet.
”Go get Stormy” my dad requested for he knew I knew that horse the best.

 It was storming that day and he knew with me he would come without a complaint.
 It was then my heart snapped in two as I realized I was bringing him to his new owner.
 I ran to the bathroom to cry, the only one who understood me ripped away from me in the worst way.

 It got worse from that point, my depression took over me like a monsoon.

 It wasn’t until I turned 15, my mother allowed me to volunteer at a rescue farm called Wiscountry Dreams.
 It was there I learned the true meaning of a bond between horses and human.

A joy within me sparked seeing all these poor creatures once suffering, happy and eager to work with me, and to please me.

 I had the responsibility of working with those 14 horses and their lovely owners.
 That was all I ever asked for, I started improving in school.
 I LOVED them like I was part of the herd.
 I played with them all in the field.
 I ran and they all came galloping behind me.
 I was their alpha, the leader, and I loved them with a passion.
 They loved me back.
 How was a 15 year-old capable of all this?

 It was the unconditional love I had for them.
As a victim of previous abuse, having depression, and anxiety, they were therapeutic.
 They listened to me when no one else would.
 It was almost as if our previous abuse was what brought us together and together we healed.

 Bonds ever so strong it was a joy to see some go to a loving home.
 With radiating love, I gave them confidence again, just as they did the same for me.
 Of course there was heartbreak. 
A couple hadn’t made it from such abuse they endured, but they passed knowing they were loved and cared for.

 Since, I have yet to get a herd. These experiences with these horses touched my heart. 
I will never forget all the horses that changed my life for the better, even if the painful memories still remain, that is why horses are my drug.

Purple

Purple is the color of my heart.
Like a shattered amethyst glistening.
It’s cold, dark, but peaceful for the most part.
Yet it beats for you, are you listening?

Purple from years of being numb.
Singing serenity almost like a dream.
Each beat it bumps is of a merciful hum.
Yet it heals for you, stitching it’s seam.

Purple like mourning and death.
Grief and abuse has tarnished it.
It’ll resume to pulse purple till my dying breath.
Yet it longs for you, a fire relit.

Leave it Be

Little one take your time.
You’re young still, leave it be.
Little one take your time.
You’re young still, not eighteen.

Little one take your time.
You’re beautiful, no need to expose.
Little one take your time.
You’re beautiful, certainly not hoes.

Little one take your time.
You’ll be an adult, you sure will.
Little one take your time.
You just enjoy, you pay not a bill.

Next We Meet

imageI cut my hair, an extension of sorrow I rid.

I loved you so, why’d you have to go?

Selfish of me leaving, not a farewell did I bid.

How can I forgive myself, I do not know.

 

Unable to tell you how I loved you before..

I’m sorry, I love you, I admit my defeat.

Then listen to your stories as I did once more.

Hopeful for your forgiveness next we meet.

To Have Children

What’s it like to have children you ask?

Well to carry them is of no easy task.

Nine months enduring strange bodily changes.

That includes peeing yourself while baby arranges.

 

What’s it like to have children you rasp?

It’s going to sleep knowing it won’t last.

It’s constant worry, baby proofing, and more.

It’s praying for no tantrums while at a store.

 

What’s it like to have children you inquire?

It’s no matter what, it’s you they admire.

It’s not being petty or putting yourself above.

It’s all that’s stated plus unconditional love.

A Bed of Concrete

As you lay on a bed of concrete. Disapproval is apparent, not at all discreet.
Though you sleep without a home or bed, you haven’t a sign or a thing to be said.

Cold nights were upon us, yet you stayed there. On a bed of concrete that’s cold and bare. There’s always some who’ll spare a ration, there’re always more who lack compassion.

Even thought we hadn’t much food. I went to you offering, trying not to be rude. You smiled so gently you took it so lovely. Then broke it apart, to share with your puppies.

Sometimes at night we’d lay in our truck. I’d hear the pups crying, my heart was struck. Crying out how this world’s so cruel? It’s the greed that tries to hold rule.

Isn’t it sad? Isn’t it strange? The world needs love, so time for a change! Isn’t it concrete? Isn’t it obvious? Without greed there will be happiness.

******************************

*This is a true story of our venture on the west coast in 2016. Homelessness is very serious. Being homeless ourselves, it was degrading. There are so many who don’t take it seriously, they seem to joke or shun. But there is kindness out there and it is to those I thank.*

Sun Kisses

As the sun kisses the horizon,

creatures wake to a welcoming light.

With dew from the night still hanging on,

the air warming, inviting, and right.

 

When the sun kisses the flowers,

they reach and bloom with all their might.

The bees and birds drink during hours,

it is them that keeps the life circle tight.

 

After the sun kisses the horizon,

creatures turn in and out of sight.

They burrow, they hide, not to be frightened,

it is them to eachother, saying goodnight.

****************************

*This poem was inspired by my daughter, she wanted a poem of flowers blooming. ❤️🌷 Enjoy*

Always

In life there’s always one who pays,

not always deserving, financial halt.

In life there’s always one who prays,

not always deserving the painful result.

In life there’s always one who’s lazy,

not always deserving their spoils.

In life there’s always one who’s right,

not always deserving the other cheek.

In life there’s always one who’d fight,

not always deserving out of greed.

In life there’s always one who’s imprisoned,

not always deserving their fate.

In life there’s always one who’s unforgiven,

not always deserving the hate.

 

Forest Spirit

Walking through the forest,

stalking my nights meal.

Tracking a path is the surest,

a life is what I must steal.

To pay a price for such fares,

dancing spirits I must follow.

Upon arrival a Forest Spirit stares,

dread crept leaving me hollow.

He then bowed to kiss my brow,

then cursed turning me a spirit.

Since then I’ve nothing but sorrow,

heart crying out for all to hear it.

There is no undoing this curse,

eternity of regret and praying.

A life wrongfully taken and worse,

price I pay, I am now paying.

image
My daughter drew these guys. 😂 Don’t ask.