Tag: ink

Pinterest blog challenge-4

Sitting by the road every morning of school day for a stranger that became family to pick and take me to school. She would bring me back too, but that sitting awakes so much. Every 6am we sat with my mom

Pinterest blog challenge- day 2

I really don’t know If I can make 20. But let’s try…

1: I love going to bed with shoes occasionally

2: I am a mother

3: I am a last born

4: I like to think of myself as a love child because love raised me

5: I am a libra but not obsessed about horoscopes

6: I walk and breath cake and chocolate chip cookies

7: every minute is tea time. I drink tea until I become tea

8: I said I was a mother, did I say I am married

9: I blog for @ satisfashionug.com (weddings)

10: I love sports but I have never understood rugby

11: I have never dyed my hair

12: once upon a time I had a tattoo

13: Give me tea and a flower garden and books and take your Internet

14: I prefer text to calls

15: I am a tomboy

16: I fear fame. I don’t think I will ever know what to do with it

17: I talk…tooo too much

18: i love, love

19: I am fluent in sarcasm

Well, if I make 20 I will have lied because coming up with 19 was not easy

#puzzledlines31

Have you held back tears

Looked up, held breath

Just to avoid them from falling

Have you known the pain of watered eyes

And a broken soul

But you what to portray strength

Or perhaps you were in public

Have you held back tears

Because you don’t want to give pain victory

Or because you faith screams it’s well

Anha, did you hold them back because it’s well

Or perhaps the pain was too much you grew numb

Stopped feeling or refused to feel

Have you held back tears

Because you were afraid of your emotions?

Moods

I am in mood

In mood of a cup of tea and cozy blanket

In mood of a fireplace I haven’t built yet

In mood of wide windows with a view

In mood of some girl chit chat

The weather is perfect

But the timing, imperfect

I am in mood of a good series

A plate of scones and a bowl of popcorn

In mood for sheets and tissues

Socks and shorts

The weather is perfect

The place imperfect.

I am in mood for a camp fire

Fire flies and lanterns

Roasting maize and marshmallows

Jamming to some soul and country

Tagged under your arms

The weather is perfect

The circumstances, imperfect.

By Bianca

Pain romanced

I have Romanced pain

Dated it, slept with it

Held an caressed it

Even when it hurt, I smiled

When they questioned, I defended

They they said let go

It wasn’t that bad for me.

Yet I still cried myself to sleep

Woke up choking on my mucus

Smiled to my wounded heart

Forced the image in the mirror to smile

It convinced me, I was beautiful

Told me I could never be better

Made me believe, that was my start and finish

I sat at high tables

My legs crossed at the knee

Red soles, red lips tic and flawless hair

They envied me, so their was no way I could speak up

I smiled for the camera

And swayed my hair for haters

Or I was the hater

I knew I was in a bad place with pain

Maybe married to it

Caressed and romanced it

We couldn’t let go of each other

Until the emptiness turned into death

I was a moving shell

A zombie

A corpse. Am image of myself

Then I knew the romance was over

I was dead.

Letters 21

I want to write to you a letter my love.

A letter of love, a letter of thought, a letter under the stars.

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling wishing I had those sticker stars that glow. I stare into the emptiness of the dark. Wondering if one wishing star could just swing by πŸ‘ŒπŸΌfor a while. I am imagining a house with no roof. Perhaps a glass house by the beach

You know I love sunsets because they give me hope and make me feel accomplished. So a glass house by the beach would give me a perfect view. But I also love a dark sky on a cold night. Stars twinkling around a full moon.

A whole horizon at the neck of the sea, still waters whispering sweet nothings. The day was beautiful but with more chaos than expected. I need some quiet right here. Here where my thoughts speak nothing and my heart says … beautiful! ….

Where the waves kiss the shore a bit more loud and the palms sweat in harmony. In this hammock I wanna fall asleep hugging my knees and smiling at the stillness of my soul. Perhaps silently lay with you listening to the music of your heart. But, right here , I wanna lay alone to reflect on …. nothing!… but also about nothing because I just want to listen to nothing but my heart, the stars , the waves and the whispers of the wind. Here, is where I want to teach my soul about my heart, my mind about my body and my body, the language of love.

Alters

of the things that trouble hearts

lets think about the pandemic we survived

but the unemployment that troubles us

the dying economy

and the fat politicking

my heart bleeds for Italy

for my country men

for the medics

for myself, for the creatives

will they have a table laid today

of will they go hungry yet again today

will the infant have breast milk

the mother is starved, how will she lactate?

let me cry

for nothing

for the emptiness i feel

for nothing

but for the disappointment that aches my heart

for nothing

but for the empty alters

for nothing

but for many hopeless knees

for nothing

she needs to pay a geek!

no they are too expensive, she has no income

For nothing

i need therapy

no, i need to breathe!

But why Am i crying?

for the unexplained pain?

for the fake speech

for the corruption

or for the hungry family

and a man who has lost his sanity.

Let me weep in fact

for the man that has lost his esteem

he cant feed his family

for the woman that has lost herself

for the individual that has lost sanity

for the anxiety being brewed

and the served depression!

Allow me mourn

for a selfish state

selfish individuals

selfish…..nothing.

hopelessness…..

a failed economy

a sad generation and a coward one

fuck comfort!

we cant even afford it now

the pandemic went with it

yet you still prefer comfort to your rights

Akashaka ka Rukundo

If you were having tea with me…

Beaton taught me the line

I would seat you by the window

Let you smell the flowers at my table

Or just hand you a book

If you were having tea with me,

I would tell you about the pot I poured from

It’s my grandmas pot

But she has been gone a few years

She fenced her farm with a sweet herb

We called it a herb of love

Akashaka ka rukundo

If you were having tea with me

I would let you inhale the aroma

before I pour into your cup.

I would tell you that on many occasions

My food is spiced with love.

At the table I dined,

We held hands and said the grace

We shared smiles and tears

We spoke and learnt

If you were having a cup of tea with me

I would lead you to my fireplace

The place that holds my heart

A place that has heard many stories

I would throw you a shawl.

And tell you of the recipes that place has birthed

If you were pouring from my pot

I would tell you,

My grandma grew rosemary anywhere

It fenced the farm

It gated her home

I would tell you that without it a meal was incomplete

Now you would know that it’s a herb of love

It protected her house as much as her farm

It brought her family together and gave them warmth

And today as we drink from my pot

Of freshly brewed love

I tell you of the lessons my grandma taught me

I share my heart

I let you know that rosemary was her herb of love

And now it’s my herb

Akashaka kangye k’arunkundo

Because she didn’t know the English name

She called it love.