Posted in Writers



The Flawddess

Holding hands,
Walking together,
Under the moonlight.

He touched my hair,
Pulled me closer,
Looked deep into my eyes.

Drops of rain,
Fell over us,
Made our heart rejoice.

We came closer,
Kissed in the rain,
Hugged each other tight.

Sound of rain,
Echoed around,
Everything looked so bright.

Like a whirlwind,
We danced under the sky,
On that heavenly night.

Oh wait!!
That was just a dream,
I kept fantasising all the way through out the night..!!❤

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Posted in Writers

Your best 5 minutes

Love this…


A couple of week ago I attended a conference on personal growth. 

At first we all had the perception it would be a bunch of people giving motivational speeches about tactics and ways to be the best you can be and all that crap.

Because that doesn’t work. Not for us. Not for the people that have tried so very hard to fight their doubts and negative thoughts about themselves.

It is a lot harder than just ‘do your best’.

But this was different.

Jamie Edwards spoke to us. Rather, he spoke to me on a personal level.


He was engaging and inspiringly positive. He has worked with footballers such as Joe Hart, and wants to expand to young women who suffer from confidence and mental problems.

He brought up so many good points that everyone should take away with them, however I think these are essential for those who…

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Posted in Writers

I dont know why

Sharing an intense, honest and talented writer…

Emerging From The Dark Night

The gardener left In three hours she stripped away half of my garden I went outside to clear up and just could not stop crying  I dont know why But I love plants like ivy climbing up other plants, which was the case with my persimmon tree.  The ivy was wending its way up the trunk well she stripped that away. She filled every bin to overflowing and left no where for me to put my leaves.   I just felt like I had been raped but at the same time I had the thought  it was good for the garden and things will grow back in time. Am I over reacting?

Then it was like a dam burst inside me and I just could not stop crying It was full force and I am no longer meant to call my therapist between sessions but I did I just did…

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Posted in Writers

My 71 Birthday.

I love this…

cancer killing recipe

So here I Am, 71 years old and alive.
I can walk slowly, talk a lot, write sometimes and I can remember most of it.
And I can count my blessings.
I’m thankful for what I have, and I’m thankful that I don’t have what I don’t need.

I’m feeling old only on my Birthday.
Tomorrow I’m going to be busy living my life and I’m going to be young again.

And if someone ask:”Are you a senior?”
I will say:”Sometimes”.

Mark Twain said:
“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter”.

I’m not going to spend the rest of my life worrying that I’m getting older.
Life is to short.
I have to get going.
I have to live my life.
I have to find more STUFF that matters.

Tom petty said:
“If you are not getting older, you’re dead”.
Yes, only…

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Posted in Writers

Love my scars?


Emerging From The Dark Night


Will you love me with my scars

Will you love me in my wounded places

It is okay for me to

Reveal this vulnerable, imperfect self to you

I know that I am an adult now

But sometimes I still struggle

With the legacy of past pain

Of an inner child

Who never really got enough

Of what she needed

Or was allowed to feel that needing was okay

I know my reactions

Often confused others

But they never saw all the times

Attachments broke or failed me

All the times I got hurt or injured

When left alone

Or just forgotten or invisible to others

And they never understood how much it hurt

To have to turn myself inside out

With the forgetting

That cast everything into the shadows

I’m trying hard

To hold my own hand In the absence of love

And to stop my fearful negative thinking

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Posted in Writers


e. michael helms

By M.J. Payne, Author, The Remembered Self: A Journey into the Heart of the Beast

THE REMEMBERED SELF is the story of my mysterious amnesia regarding big chunks ofThe Remembered Self my childhood.  I was the bookworm with no friends and no lunch who wandered the playground in isolation. I had recurrent nightmares of the same gorilla chasing me up a rickety structure and I always fell and never landed. This was the divided self I lived with. It was not until I graduated from college and had a year of graduate school that I didn’t recognize the face in the mirror. A slow leak of intrusive memories began. The floodgate opened after a brief ugly marriage and I almost drowned. Forbidden memories of graphic terror engulfed me and I recalled things I feared I could never tell anyone.

Telling is important. It is a bridge out of isolation. I remember sitting…

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