On the sheep-cropped summit, under hot sun, The mouse crouched, staring out the chance It dared not take. Time and a world Too old to alter, the five mile prospect— Woods, villages, farms hummed its heat-heavy Stupor of life. Whether to two Feet or four, how are prayers contracted! Whether in God’s eye or the eye of a cat.
Short and poignant. Be blessed all my precious avids 👧💖
Monday was terrible. Horrific. I spent the day sulking on my lonesome and went home ready to erupt. I could feel the slight tingle of tears threatening their way through my eyelids Ready to pour over the second they perched open But due to my lack of sleep last night I doubt I could even build up the strength to open my glossy eyes Even if I wanted to
In a weird sense I enjoyed the mere thought of Monday being able to make me cry I almost laughed Or screamed Or both
A year ago today Everyday was a Monday to me Everyday went horribly Everyday made me come home crying and lock myself in my room I was so used to that constant repetitive torture That Monday appeared to be no different than any other day Monday was just… It. Tuesday was “it” Wednesday was “it” Thursday was “it” Friday was “it” Even Saturday and Sunday were “it”
But now, today Monday is distinct In a horrifyingly gruesome way And this tear-jerking unsatisfying Monday gave me hope
Monday made me cry Tuesday did not Wednesday did not Thursday did not Friday did not Not even Saturday or Sunday made me cry Only Monday made me cry Only Monday
Just as Monday made 7 billion other humans cry On this torturous inescapable earth It also made me cry
And that gave me hope that maybe I really am normal Or I can be Or I will be
Because Monday is unbearable for everyone And Monday is unbearable for me And the rest of the week is alright for most people And it was alright for me And Saturday and Sunday are fun for most people And Saturday and Sunday were fun for me
Somewhere Deep inside my clouded, muddy mind I caught a glimpse of hope That maybe There is hope for me Maybe I am cured Maybe I can be Maybe I will be
Have a great day all my darling avidReaders! I know I haven’t released a proper article since last week, my mind’s been kind of all over the place and writing just didn’t come to me. I also don’t want to write just to post weekly and I post something that’s rubbish. I’ve also been busy working on my next book. If you follow me on my socials, you will see I just finished releasing the last chapter of my book “Stranger” on Patreon. I’m now busy with the next one, Idyllic. It’s been very busy over here with work, too.
Ten Little Sailor Boys went out to dine, One choked his little self, and then there were nine. Nine Little Sailor Boys sat up very late, One overslept himself, and then there were eight. Eight Little Sailor Boys traveling in Devon, One stayed there, and then there were seven. Seven Little Sailor Boys chopping up sticks, One chopped himself in halves, and then there were six. Six Little Sailor Boys playing with a hive, A bumblebee stung one, and then there were five. Five Little Sailor boys going in for law, One got in Chancery, and then there were four. Four Little Sailor Boys going out to sea, A red herring swallowed one, and then there were three. Three Little Sailor Boys walking in the zoo, A big bear hugged one, and then there were two. Two Little Sailor Boys sitting in the sun, One got frizzled up, and then there was one. One Little Sailor Boy left all alone, He went and hung himself, and then there were none.
From one of my favourite mystery novels. If you want a good read or enjoy mini-series then watch Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. It really is a good read and made a great mini-series!
Have a great day all my darling avidReaders! God bless you today!
All throughout History, It’s always been a mystery. The most unlucky of days, On this day we change our ways. Careful what we do, Careful when we tie our shoe. Stay in and lock your door, Don’t get up off the floor. Black cats and spilled salt, The broken mirror is not my fault! Avoiding ladders and a sidewalk crack, Being on guard we do not lack. Some say it’s a day of fun, Others shiver, hide, and run. Some say it’s black magic that comes out today, Some say that it’s demons here to stay. Whatever your superstition on this very day, Everyone’s wits will shred and fray. The day of bad luck comes only so often, Let’s just pray it doesn’t lead to a coffin.
Happy Triskadeckaphobia Day all of you! God bless and stay safe!
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
A poem to boost your spirits today. If you can do all this, you’ll be strong, bold and powerful! God bless all of you today, my darling avidReaders