Nobody Asked if You’re Okay

Nobody asked if you’re okay, while you lay sleeping, pillow wet with tears. Nobody asked how you were doing when your heart shreds to pieces, nobody hears. Nobody asked what keeps you moving, when your movement trudge slowly and painfully. Nobody asked, while you look far beyond what you can’t see, lost in the moment of utter confusion.  You came back from your deep thoughts, what they are, you don’t know. You shrug off your melancholy, and carry on with life.


Most of the time, people are afraid to ask if you’re okay, not because they don’t care but because they are uncertain how to handle your truths, and that is fine. Because, human as we are, we continue to live, and…



Writing 201: Weekend Potluck

So today for Writing 201: Poetry, Ben asked us to share a poem that we love written by somebody else. And, I have several! As I’ve said, I’ve been writing poems for years, and in so doing, I’ve also collected a few that I truly need to keep. I have this folder in my files that’s dedicated to poems, and I’ll gladly share some of the poems (note: PLURAL, so brace yourselves!) that I truly love.


Do you remember when…?

A computer was something on TV in a science fiction show
A window was something you hated to clean,
and ram was the cousin of a goat.
Meg was the name of your girlfriend and
gig was your job that night.
Now they all mean different things
And that mega bytes.
An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A cursor used profanity
A keyboard was a piano.
Compress was something you did to the garbage,
not something you did to a file
And if you unzipped anything in public,
you’d be in jail for awhile.
Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a backup happened to your commode.
Cut you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider’s home and
a virus was the flu.
I guess I’ll stick to my pad and paper
and the memory in my head
I hear nobody’s been killed
in a computer crash
But, when it happens…
they wish they were dead.

I haven’t noted who wrote this but I had fun reading how this poem was spot on to how I felt when the world wide web emerged, computers have upgraded to Office, and Wordstar became obsolete.


By Paige C. Storm

Alone in the dark as their broken hearts mended
They silently spoke with their eyes – it had ended

His soul he had bore but to hopeless avail
For the damage has done with all the times she had failed

For the years she put forth her heart openly
There was nothing returned but his dark misery

And through it all she had tried so hard to be strong
But her pain can only be endured so long

Perhaps not the words he wanted to hear
As he’d grown to discover what had now disappeared

His love had revealed him as never before
And he sat there before her begging one chance more

And perhaps not the words he expected she’d say
She looked at him softly before turning away

“You left me alone as I watched from my world,
Nursing and raising our boys and our girl,”

“As rivers of tears I shed night after night,
You never stopped once to see my fierce fight,”

“To help me to love you – to know you loved me,
To find the child in you and set your dreams free,”

“To have and to hold until death did us part,
But alas you have killed my once passionate heart,”

“‘Tis not for a lack of my love I must go,
But because I cannot love a man I don’t know,”

And she turned away softly from the man who just died
For the man she had longed for, and she silently cried.

For all that was in her was now deep within,
In a darkness so dense as to let never a light in

To herself she was true and turned to leave
To find somehow, some way, another something to believe.

This was a sad story of letting go.

SP_NotTooShabby_MemoryLane_StitchingNoShadowGround Him By Your Side

I did not comprehend it when the words first came to me,
It startled me at first, I didn’t know who it could be.

My son was having problems, with the vices of the day.
He had started down the road of life, but heading the wrong way.

I warned him time and time again. I hope it’s not too late.
And now it’s time to punish him but as I hesitate,

I’m so confused and don’t know how to punish my young son.
I only knew I must act then, and something must be done.

Then as I walked down to his room trying to decide,
I heard a voice that startled me, “Ground him by your side.”

The voice was strong and deep and it appeared to be a man.
I guess when angels first appear, you do not understand.

I knew it must be spiritual, for I was all alone.
And I could sense the difference, just listening to the tone.

As I pondered on the words, and what they really meant.
I could not grasp the meaning, or the reason they were sent.

Just how was I to use those words with meanings that were hid?
And in my mind those words echoed so this is what I did.

I told my son, “You’re out of line, and troubles on the way.
So this is how it’s going to be, and it will start today.”

“I want to know from here on out, exactly where you’re at.
Until you prove yourself to me, it’s going to be like that.”

“When you’re at school you’ll telephone, so I’ll know you’re all right.
And when I’m working you will do, the same thing here at night.”

“Then when we’re home, and even if you may think this is wrong,
When I go shopping or go out, you’ll also come along.”

He did not like the punishment, I saw it in his eyes.
And how I used the words I heard was even a surprise.

I wondered as I left his room, had I done right or wrong?
Will he rebel against me now or will he go along?

The weeks turned into months, with how our lives were rearranged.
And then one day, I noticed that our lives had really changed.

No longer was it punishment and no more did he dread.
The time we spent together, it was bonding time instead.

What started as a punishment that made me agonize.
Turned out to be a blessing, standing right before my eyes.

My son and I had grown so close, with love we had to find.
And always I could hear those words that whispered in my mind.

I never really understood the words when they first came.
And sometimes wondered if my mind, was totally insane.

The spirit world is active, angels move throughout the earth.
And you can read my story and take it for what it’s worth.

But now my son is doing fine, he is my source of pride.
And all because an angel said, “Just ground him by your side.”

~James Kisner~

***I kept this with me, a reminder to my own’s parenting path. THIS POEM IS A TRUE STORY TOLD BY JAMES KISNER’S NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR.


In The Beginning
by Ron Carnell

God said let there be light,
And there was light.

God said let there be life,
And the birds took flight.

God said let there be stars,
And the stars shone through.

God said let there be love,
And there was you.

This reminds me of a song my husband gave me when he was still courting me (yes, people, conservative as it sounds, I was courted – for two years – before we became an item. That’s another story, though). The song was from Beatles called Till There Was You, and it has been our song.


William Rise

“The best Christmas ever?
I remember it well!”
So began the old story
My mother would tell
The familiar old story
We kids love to hear,
Christmas Eve by the fire,
At the end of the year.

“I was eighteen,”
She would smile and say,
“But how well I remember
That one Christmas Day.
On the morning before,
A great storm started blowing,
The air became damp,
And soon, it was snowing.
And then, how it fell,
Flakes just poured from the sky,
Till the drifts piled up
Half a dozen feet high,
The roads became blocked,
Our small airport shut down,

And soon, not a soul
Could escape from the town.
“I remember my father
Reached home around four,
And I saw someone with him
When I opened the door.
A snow-covered stranger,
A guest, I was told,
A young out-of-town lawyer,
Tall! Handsome! – And cold!
A young man from the city,
I heard my father say,
Christmas Eve – he was stranded –
So with us he would stay,
And we’d make his Yule merry.
Or at least we would try,
Till the airport reopened,
And the storm had gone by.
“And then, there began
The best Christmas ever.
Our guest was a dream,
For besides being clever,
And besides being handsome,
He was gentle and shy –
So – I soon fell in love!”
Mother said with a sigh.
“Christmas Eve – Christmas Day –
We spent hours together,
But then I could see
A change in the weather.
The storm had gone past,
It no longer was snowing,
And the following day,
I knew he’d be going.
He’d be off to the city,
He’d be leaving – and then –
I feared that I never
Would see him again.

“Ah, if only, I thought
There was some magic way,
To prevent him from leaving,
To cause a delay.
I was sure that I pleased him,
That was easy to see,
Why, another few days,
And he might fall for me!
Well, I thought and I thought,
But what could I do?
And then, after supper –
Yes, it’s perfectly true –
He said he felt odd,
He confessed he was ill,
One moment so hot,
The next moment, a chill.
Yes, it’s hard to believe,
But it was perfectly true,
That evening our guest
Came down with the flu!

“For a week he stayed with us,
Now better, now worse,
He was so sweet and helpless –
And I was his nurse.
I brought him cold cloths
To put on his head,
I brought him warm soup,
And fluffed up his bed.
Oh, I cared for my patient,
Through each fever attack,
And when he left a week later,
I prayed he’d come back.

Mother paused for a while,
And said nothing more.
She looked at us children.

Sprawled about on the floor.
She gazed at the tree.
All tinseled and bright,
At the wreaths and the fire,
And the holiday night.
Then she said, “Every Christmas
Is special, I know,
But for me, that December
Had a magical glow,
First the hours before Christmas,
And then Christmas day,
The great blizzard that brought us
Together that way,
All the wind and the snow,
And the terrible weather,
Then the last minute flu
That kept us together.”
And she’d look at my father,
And say with a smile,
“I’m so glad you were forced
To remain for a while,
The out-of-town stranger,
So handsome and clever,
The sweetheart I found,
On the best Christmas ever.”

I know it’s not Christmas yet, but I wanted to share my favorite Christmas poem, a love story obviously. We all wanted to have that special someone to be in our lives till we’re old and elderly.  Sit by the fire telling stories to grandkids. All those awesome stuff of growing old together. We don’t really know what will happen in the future, but that’s the plan. (Grow Old With You is another song that my husband really likes).


Day 1: Screen, Haiku, Alliteration

Just enrolled myself in Writing 201 – Poetry and I have to say, it was a challenge thinking about the prompts, but here’s my start!

Today, write a poem about/against/in homage to the screens in your life.


Got to go, it’s gone
Seven seconds of screen shot
Hover on the hour.

Another haiku –

= AGE =

I’m eighteen, oh wait
That was twenty years ago
True age doesn’t matter.

© 2015 ReadWriteSnap. All Rights Reserved.


Tidbits Thursdays

In my years of world wide web, I collected bits and pieces of advice, reads, and anything of everything. During Thursday of each week, I’m going to feature my tidbit finds.tidbitthu

BEAUTY: Dry lips are annoying.  If you want your dried up puckers to be juicy and soft, rub cucumber skin on your lips to soothe the dryness.

FOOD: For easy removal of tomato skin, blanch them in very hot water for 8-10 minutes.  Then take it out of the water and peel away.

HOME: Here’s a floor care tip:  If you have wooden floor, never soak the floor as it will cause the wood to swell and then crack.  Place protector pads on furniture legs.  Beware of shoe heels and pet claws.  Use a pencil eraser to remove black heel marks on the floors.

ETSY: Thou Shall Thrift on Days Off Mug by TheScribbleStudio


LOVE:  Try to find something positive about your spouse instead of dwelling on his bad traits.  The first thing people say when they lose a loved one is: I wish I could have told him I loved him one last time.  So make a habit to say I love you sincerely everyday.

JOURNALING: Week in the Life


What’s your tidbit finds today?


Yin to My Yang

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Yin to My Yang.”

Soulmate, most often used with having a romantic partner, or with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. (Wiki) 

Sometimes it makes me wonder how I was able to write depressing prose, in definite contrast to a loving relationship I have with my husband.

He is warm to my cold. He is sunshine to my rain.

It’s not hard to explain what we have, and I can tell you that I have an amazingly wonderful husband. He has his flaws, yet he live his life for us.  We’ve been together for more than a decade, but he still makes me feel beautiful, and he never fails to show it to me everyday. Well, he hugs me a lot, and he’s kind of pesky with that, though I do appreciate it.  The thing is, we don’t feel too married.  I don’t know how to explain it, since it doesn’t feel new, and yet, we don’t feel married.

At times I think I may have made some good things in the past to deserve a man like him, but I would like to think that in any relationship, it takes two to make it work. Knowing these feelings, do I believe in soulmates? Truth is, I don’t know. It’s easy to say my husband is my other half because, well, we’re married.

He is my yin. Is he my soulmate, then?

I’d like to put it this way –

Ribbet Edit


Setting Goals: Inbox Saturdays

One of the things that always overwhelm me is my inbox full of subscriptions I totally love but don’t always read.  So, my goal is to feature it here on a weekly basis.inboxsat_edited-1

Grilled Pork Chops with Pineapple and Peppers | Double Chocolate Banana Cake  

Ramen Noodles with Kale


Texas Outdoor Adventure Photography Workshops

Whether you just picked up your first camera or are a seasoned pro wanting to learn more about photography in the great outdoors, discover your passion with Texas Outdoor Adventure Photography Workshops. These workshops, created in partnership with Texas Parks and Wildlife, will be taught by Bud Force and his team of professional photographers. Come learn the ropes of digital photography in a beautiful outdoor setting at one of various state parks around Texas.iwant


Weekly Photo Challenge: Symbol

My take on this week’s challenge.

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Symbol.” This week, share a symbol with us, and tell us what it means to you.

Till There Was You

The Love I Know

God’s love surpasses all things,
all obstacles.
Defies all negative emotions,
overcomes all difficulties.
And I,
would like to do the same for you.
Since I’m only human,
and I’m not as forgiving,
nor as humble,
nor as selfless,
nor as kind,
I can only love you the way I know.

With all my heart,
my mind,
my soul.

© 2015 ReadWriteSnap. All Rights Reserved.


The Book, the (Other) Blog and the Purpose

**This is a repost from my soon to be deleted blog.  Edited for RWS.

As I stepped into the shower this one early morning, I realized something.

I haven’t been blogging as much as I should.

The motivation was nada, not because my head wasn’t brimming with words (because they do, ALL THE TIME) but because the moment I felt the compulsory notion of giving this the other blog some life, words just escape me, and the purpose of WHY I’m blogging in the first place.

I started blogging as a bookmark or a haven for the collections I’ve had, minimizing the paper trail I’ve gathered through the years, but somehow, somewhere, I found out about paid blogging. And, Hypocrisy aside, knowing about having to blog, then – cha-ching-cha-ching -seems  blogging and paid for it WAS better than just blogging at all. So, off I went to the world of paid blogging, skimming through the ones who paid the most, and messing the purpose of my wanting to blog in the first place.

A bookmark. Practice writing. Express myself. Penshoppe. In that order.

But as I was defecating (excuse moi) on my commode (yep, this is my favorite pastime) and reading Scott Adams’ on energy and passion How To Fail At Almost Everything and Still Win Big, this the other blog keeps pushing its way into my head.

Blogging was once IS my passion, and I have no qualms about it being monetary, but a little part of the disadvantage to its economic perk was the fact that I need to write about a topic I’m unsure how to write, or the energy to write about it.

So, I don’t want that anymore.

I want to blog. I want to rant (positively?), and express and unburden my whirling thoughts in something I can read, or my children can read, or the world wide web can read, for all eternity.

I wonder what more eludes me with blogging, and it somehow have to do with my constant wanting to perfectly write a post – grammar and all – because as it was, I don’t want to appear stupid in public.

WRONG. I’m stupid.

I’m stupid enough to allow myself to wallow in my want for perfection because it’s never going to be perfect.

There is beauty in flaws.

I was so conscious of my writing that I decided not to write at all.

My blog is full of drafts – half-written rants, and self-imposed importance and opinions that I decided not to finish in the end.

It was so me.

Yeah, yeah, yeah…Scott Adams, I got your point.

Now I’m doing something about my energetic thoughts.

By the way, the book and my thoughts about it is posted in my book blog – Leaf Through Books (and no, this is not the blog I’m deleting). And I leave with this quote from the book –

…forget about passion when you’re planning your path to success…when your energy is right you perform better in everything you do, including school, work, sports, and even your personal life. Energy is good. Passion is bullshit.

– excerpt, How to Fail at Almost Anything and Still Win Big by Scott Adams

There you go.