You've torn me, ripped me, and hit meI bleed from the wounds on my skinYou've floored me, kicked me, and slit meBut you've not broken the spirit withinMy tank is depleted, not emptyI rise back, glowing with sweatFight? Oh yes, I've got plentyYour smugness will turn to regret  

As I sit upon the meadow,a dreamlike world at ease,the rushes, elms, and grasses,caressed by lazy evening breeze.The sunset glows on honeyed towers,the gentle river flows behind,if only this could last forever,if only nothing preyed upon my mind.But I know they're coming,soon a rabble through the gate,vicious thugs come to smite me,and condemn me to my fate.I spoke truth to power, yes I did,but the power spat it back,an e...

In a fog of dread, I'm cast awayTo drift unnoticed through the bayOf timid flame, and fight forgotI clutch the mast of “I cannot”But deep inside, the embers burnWith trial and error, I slowly learnA thousand thoughts, a journey longTo build a furnace oh so strongThen my spark, I'll re-igniteOut shall pour my blinding lightAblaze inside, I'll be that manWho stands up tall and says, "I can."

The next morning, he was there at ten, but I was busy with a group of tourist customers, looking for maps and history books about the city. They got me really busy for at least an hour, but in the end, I managed to sell something to every single one of them. He was smiling. “You are very skilled in dealing with people.” “No. I am a total wreck in dealing with people.” I wasn’t mentioning his request purposely, to give him...

She stared at her reflection: silver-streaked hair, laughter lines, dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked middle-aged. Was middle-aged. Where were the white hair and deep creases of later years she’d expected to see as her end neared? Too soon… way too soon. Thoughts of a missed future – of laughing grandchildren, long summer days pottering outside, retirement holidays in far-flung places – threatened to bring tears....

That’s it. Breakfast dishes all cleared away. Cups neatly stacked, in the lower cupboard, Cereal bowls alongside with the plates. Now, why do I find something so menial satisfying? Oh, don’t I know the reason very well? It’s a form of security. Just like the warm aroma of my wife’s scones baking in the oven. There’s something steadfast and reassuring about that sort of thing. Fifty years or so of establishing everything i...

A misfit character,  A misunderstood hero,  'All is well' was never his motto. Sadness never abstained from him.  Bitterness was a frequent flyer. The biting sting of heartbreak,  Drenched often in his pool of thought. Cynicism was obvious,  He chose a smile instead. Perspective helped. With death he realized, Came the value of existence. Mind traversed in new dimensions, Thoughts consumed with light.  Everything suddenly...

The next morning, over the cold porridge breakfast, no mention was made about the use of the belt. Not expecting any, Danny was subdued but not suppressed. Anger and resentment still burned inside him. He couldn’t bear to look at Albin Flint, half expecting to see a self-satisfied look on that sour face. As he entered the kitchen on his way out to school, Eliza Flint said coolly, “You know part of my husband’s job as over...

A friend asked me today What did I want for Christmas? “Nothing but our continued friendship And joy for all mankind!”   But tonight, back at home After having a chance to think I still want what I said But I don’t wish for that alone.   Tonight, I wish for lasting true love Not just for me, but for one and all. May we all find that special someone Who lights the way even on our darkest days?   Someone who makes your hear...

Wake UpWake UpOpen your eyes ..Do you see..A dirty face..A hungry bellyA child in need ..Do you care?Wake UpWake UpOpen your heart ....Show a smile..Hold the doorAllow love to bloom ..Do you take the timeWake UpWake UpBecome better ....Think of others..Not only for the holidaysWake UpWake Up 

There is no doubt that poetry has a unique ability to move the human spirit; an ability shared only with music and far more so than even the greatest prose, however impassioned. It is, therefore, no surprise that the greatest composers have felt impelled to set poetry to music; and whilst the lyrics of much popular music are repetitive and banal, the works that will survive are those where the words tell a story or expres...

She wanted someone special To share the good and bad Be herself And not pretend With sweet hello Closed with see you later A dream of hope Tears of joy Secrets told Memories galore She could not open her eyes Nor could she say a word Old habits were hard to break Open she would try to be A smile upon her lips She dreamed of finding Someone to belong to To be her very own            

Life is like a crystal ball of fortune.When it falls into pieces,the people try to grab it.Someone grab it more,someone grab it less,someone grab it none.Dear friend, how much have you grabbed yet? ---------------------------------------------------------- The crystal ball of fortune is a metaphor. Fortune / Happiness will never come of nothing. I always believe if we want to have it, first of all, we have to give, strive...

I face this year with trepidation; fearing my next destination.Ogres and trolls -of this past year- may cross a bridge into the New Year.I worry life is no longer a thrill and I'm nothing more than a shill.A shill destined to play in another man's scam; that may be all I truly am.Myths, legends, and campfire stories, so late in life and so few glories,I settle into my routine as paternoster, others step on and off me with...

Gordon Curzon was a veteran of many fierce commercial negotiations and boardroom battles.  He was at ease with heads of state, and finance ministers, and held in very high esteem by corporate bankers and lawyers.  He was a decisive and confidant man.  He was also a man of his word, with a very high sense of personal honour and corporate ethics, he subscribed to the motto ‘Dictum meum pactum.’ “I don’t think I have ever in...