Thursday 7 June 2012

Friends Battle Cry


Friends Battle Cry 





Oh to be able to sail right through life  
To be able to soar high 
Like a dove high in the sky 
Oh what a life !

Oh For life to be full of sparkle and twinkles,
Never getting old with creases and wrinkles,
Oh what a life ! 

Oh how to play without soreness and pain,
Fall down and get up again and again, 
Oh what a life ! 

Oh how to have friends who are there, 
Who love you and show that they care, 
Oh ....now that is life ! 

With friends in our life 
We will soar high 
Reach the stars in the sky 
They are our twinkles 
Caressing our wrinkles 
They will soothe our pains 
Help us up again and again,
A Band of friends. 
Is a love that never ends 
  

Meet Ali Ali is a little 5 year old  girl who has FOP a genetic conditions which effects 1 in 2 million people find out more about FOP and join Ali's Army here Ali's Army

Wednesday 25 January 2012

Running Out Of Time

Submissions Needed please send details to KEZ




Running Out Of Time 

Picture by Bonnie

Running Out Of Time 

Tick, tock, tick, tock, 
Time is running out 
Its a race against the clock 
Tick...Tock
Tick, tock, tick, tock, 
Blood is been filtered, 
Dialysis still leaves me feeling crock, 
Tick...... tock 
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
Lungs scream for air, 
Scarred, ruined, unable to repair. 
Tick......... tock 
Tick,  tock, tick tock,
Heart is slowly beating, 
Until its final stop, 
Tick.............. ........Tock 
Tick ,tock ,tick, tock,
People can be saved ,
The situation is grave, 
Tick... tock 
Tick ,tock, tick, tock
Time is running out, 
Its a race against the clock, 
Tick, tock ,tick,tock 
Tick, tock, tick, tock ,
Tick ,tock
Tick,
Tock,


   STOP !

A Chance At Life

Submissions needed please send details to KEZ


A Chance At Life 

I sat with tubes of red coming in and out of veins 
A ritual to endure, if in life I was to remain,
A life of weakness and lethargy,
Conversing with others almost like a zombie.
Thanking god for advances in technology 
Forget-me-not - Myosotis sylvatica
He lay only alive because of machines, 
Bloods and tissues positively  matched and screened.
One family mourns, cries and grieves,
One family smiles relieved at the reprieve. 
Thanking god for advances in technology
Forget-me-not - Myosotis sylvatica
The donor may be gone from earthly plains 
Thou he and his brave family have allowed me to remain
For both families he is in our hearts 
He has let my life happily restart
Thank god for his  ideology 
Forget-me-not - Myosotis sylvatica
Thank You !

Wednesday 12 October 2011

My Little Soldier


When Children are very sick parents try and blame themselves and  sometimes feel immense and overwhelming guilt and all though they know they are not to blame they continue to do so. Hope and acceptance of an illness is sometimes the only way to get through it sometimes with really positive outcomes !   
My Little Soldier

I look at him 
His perfect ivory skin 
Peaceful in his drug induced sleep 
I know within 
War rages,one he must win !

I look at him 
His perfect potential life 
Peaceful innocence of his internal strife. 
I know within 
I'd die to save him ,my kin !

I look at him 
My perfect child 
Peaceful yet I'm forever riled, 
I feel within,
He's paying for my sin! 

I look at him 
My perfect babe, 
I search my heart and soul, 
Dissecting my life whole 
I feel no shame, 
Yet he's still in pain 

I look at him 
My perfect son, 
I promise him all, till 
This war is won 
For I know within 
Together 
We'll conquer and win! 



Monday 10 October 2011

Where The Heart Is


This poem was written by Linda Rhinehart  Neas who was inspired to write after seeing the suffering of children suffering from HIV and aids and their grandmothers known as Gogos  who care for them In Swaziland ,She was so inspired it became a book whose profits go to help in education and health care.The book sits proudly in Nelson Mandela Personal Library.  

Where the Heart Is

 How is it
            that simply
                        by looking at
pictures
          taken by others,
pictures
           of strangers
                        never to be met,
pictures
           of rolling hills
           of lush, grassy plains
           of shining eyes
                        that look into your soul
from the faces of children
                        you could hold all day
in spite of the heat
                        of the African sun…

How is it
            that your heart
                               finds a connection
that you never
                    knew existed
until you
              looked at
pictures,
            falling
                   unquestioningly
                                    in love?
©2009 Linda M. Rhinehart Neas



Gogo's Dream: Swaziland DiscoveredPlease help the orphans of HIV/AIDS in Swaziland...

All Profit from Book Sales go to : Possible Dreams International  

The Constant

The Constant 
A Poem By Randy Sturridge 


A child of ten with high hopes and large dreams,
Has nothing but love for all, it so seems,
A child of twelve just wants to be alone
Independence and distance he wants when hes home,
A child of 15 plays lacrosse with his friends
Off to meet a girl for which he thinks the world,
A man of 17 is applying for college
Enthusiastic with all of his knowledge,
A man of 19 gets dropped off  for the last time
At college alone, the child inside cries.
He will be fine, he will be strong,
I saw in his face that he still needed his mom !

Chidi Okoye

Read More Of Randys Poetry at :The Mind Canvas  

Sunday 9 October 2011

Echoes

I believe things good and bad that happen within our childhood can affect how we are as adults and how we inter react with others.  

ECHOES 

The echoes from past times
Of mental and physical crimes,
Haunt the chains I have made
Since my childhood was betrayed,
Echoes interrupt my being,
Constantly in my head,
Like a film i'm seeing,
Played and replayed,
Always bubbling away
Waiting to invade.
Echoes beat in my heart,
Drowning the love you give me, 
Unless I rewrite my history, 
The echoes of the past 
Will destroy us
Shatter us like glass !
Shattered Glass Paintings
Picture by Zane Lewis

This is an entry for the Mookychick blogging competition, FEMINIST FLASH FICTION 2011. 
ENTER NOW