My tongue is the pen of a ready writer

Each word I speak is a masterpiece brighter.

Than any stroke of paint or ink so bold,

My language flows, and my stories unfold.

With each syllable, I paint a scene,

Of love, of loss, of places I've seen.

My words are my weapons, my armor is very strong,

They can comfort, inspire, or sometimes right the wrong.

My tongue is my vessel, my thoughts its sail,

I navigate through life, and with words, I prevail.

I pour my heart out, onto each selected page,

My emotions, my thoughts, they never age.

Like a pen in hand, my tongue never gets tired,

For my passion just push my passioned desires.

It knows no bounds, no limits to explore,

It is a tool, a weapon, and so much more.

So let my tongue be the pen of a ready writer,

Through my words, I can be a painter.

I'll paint the world in colors of my own,

And with my poetry, I'll make them all known.

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Clouds.

Clouds pass by each day from morning to night and back again each day. The flowing by of a natural scenic view, as each cloud pass there, comes a new. Some white some grey some with shapes that form high in the air. And as I sit at my window and view them all, big and small flowing clouds seem to be exiting the big sky of the hall. Some pass that looked dark grey with water Yes! Maybe the rain will fall, and they move so crowdedly as some connection to each other for a refreshing rain as mother nature calls. And drip by drip rain will fall from those grey clouds as each one lightens up and more clouds will continue to flow, days on end on the same sky track that each already knows :) And as they continue to flow, the day will end and night will begin to more cloud form on a scenic show. All clouds will continue to flow to go where nobody knows.

Gran

Oh, grandmother, you raised me from just a little lad, You were the best grandmother I ever had, You gave me hope and you help me along the way, you made my bad days good oh how I hoped you had stayed. But it was time for you to go I know because with your last breath you said so, You’re with God now and keeping my brother's company when its time for me I hope I’ll be ready, Both of you are now free, and sometimes I feel sad but yet I am happy, You are with God your mummy and pappy. I have grown up and in my head, I’m still hearing, "put God in everything you do". Is what you were always saying.

Peaceful-Profound And Reformed.

The peaceful way of solitude, an embodiment, and embracement of old things of new. A soft peaceful way, a fresh morning's breeze and look that starts with the stillness of a new silent day. An aroma of a fresh clean scent, a cool wave of air gently flows on the flowers that are full of dew's soft touch that's wet. Pores opened up to a breath of fresh air as a soft wind gently blew through the atmosphere. The sense of silence is everywhere and the tendency of peace is flowing through the air. And the vibrant peaceful flow, a multitude of ordinances wherever you may go.

The Writer

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