Insomnia

Knackered and sprawled out across my bed, I weep

All these aches and pains are making me weak

My muscles feel weary and my tendons tight

My body full of insomnia and keeping me up all night

Tears upon my pillow and blankets cast aside

Tossing and turning and flopping like an ocean’s tide

My neck feels kinked and my shoulder is stressed

Should I give up and just go get dressed?

I’ll try once more to attend to my slumber

But I believe the sheep I’m counting have my number

Struggling to find comfort in my sleigh of sleep

Finally, it’s over! Now don’t make a peep!

ZzZ. Zzz.

Goodnight

Goodnight dear friends
It’s time I took my rest
My eyes have grown weary
As the day was quite long
And morn comes around quite early

Tomorrow a new day shall start
With more rhymes and ramblings
New friends to discover
New topics to read
Farewell for now…off to sleep

Welcome To My World

It stormed all day yesterday, but it made today so damned beautiful!  The sun is shining bright.  The birds are singing in the trees. It’s a good day to be alive!

I decided since it was such a beautiful day that I would take some pictures and share them.

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Lone daisy sitting in the clay
Thank you so much
For brightening my day!

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Skies marbles with the clouds
Above the tree tops
Breath-taking…you take away my sounds

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Trees up high above my head
With light shining through its limbs
This would be a great view from my bed!

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Little pictures from the place I love
The smile glistens upon my face
The sun showers me from above

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Little plant growing mighty and strong
I can’t wait to see you blossom
The world of nature is where you belong

All photos by E.M. Kingston.

Please do not take any of my photographs without asking, and credit must be given when you use them with a pingback and text.

The Blanket of Flowers

I sat there staring at the blanket of flowers
Laying upon my father’s grayish, silver casket
Roses, carnation, and tiny baby’s breath
The greenery accenting their beauty

It was closed.

I couldn’t see him.

Are you in there, Dad?

All I can see are the flowers.

A blanket of them keeping you safe.

The preacher’s words flew through me
Bringing tears to my eyes as he spoke
Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the box
Covered with a spray of beauty
Thinking this was still all a big mistake.

It wasn’t though.

You are really gone.

I miss you.

I need you.

I love you.

Watch now as the words come to me in rhymes
You’re my inspiration from deep inside.
You cover me with your love.
Your words guide me and lead me here.
Your my blanket of flowers keeping me safe.

 

 

The Lone Tree

 

Electrified from the fury of the storm
A lone tree stands under attack
No longer will its limbs be able to form

Once so thick and full of life
It’s roots traumatized by the flash
Dug into the ground bound to strife

Dying little tree with just a jolt
Helpless after the fury of the light
The roots have no hope after that bolt

The tree that stood proud now water drunk
Withering away with each passing day
With its bark laying at its trunk

As I was sitting here attempting today’s daily post, I was having trouble finding a direction.  Just when I had backspaced and written and backspaced again, a bolt of lightning struck right outside my window.  It was so loud I can still hear it echoing in my ear.  It hit a beautiful tree that I spend time looking at when gazing out of my window, so this poem is for that tree.  

Daily Prompt: Roots

I'm part of Post A Day 2016;

A Dedication To Lil’ Chefs

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Braids, ponytails, and hair spiked on top
Curly hair, pixie cuts, and even a mohawk
Twirly dresses trimmed in flowery lace
Jeans, shorts, and an apron on stock

Tiny, little human chefs
Wise beyond their years
Wielding a spatula and skillet
It brings me to happy tears

The sight is amazing to see what they can do
Little people with such big, awesome hearts
Cooking for a competition of champions
With their most favorite dish to start

Chopping, dicing, cubing their feast
All with a friendly smile as they stand on their feet
Baking, searing, and even flambé
They are little chefs striving to never be beat

Note From E. M.

I was inspired to write this after watching Master Chef Junior.  I was catching up on episodes on Hulu, and it just hit me to write about such talented little people.  (I think when I was their age, I was lucky to be able to make macaroni & cheese… )  I look forward to catching up on the rest of the episodes, but good luck to all the little chefs cooking their little hearts out on the show.

The Struggle

Like a broken puzzle in my head

It hurts with pounding fury

Trailing down my neck to despair

Tightening my muscles

Snapping at my tendons like a rubber band

Boom Boom Boom!

This feeling inside my skull

Beating me and defeating me

Why doesn’t it just go away?

Hours of agony

Counting the minutes of anguish

My eyes have joined the party of pain

The light hurts…make it dim!

Loud noises make me cringe

Time to fight back

You won’t get the best of me today

Migraine! Leave my brain!

The Thunderstorm of Night

Gray skies and wispy wind
Bring on the storm
I’m ready to begin

Thunder crashing
Lightning strikes
Cowering in the covers of the night

Night moon was hidden
In clouds of chaos
Dropping hail upon the Earth

The tree’s fragile limbs
Snap to the ground
Crushing all beneath

The power flickers
Putting you in the darkness
Lighting candles with a BIC spark

A crash of lighting booms
Close to where you dwell
Taking cover with those you love

Huddled up together strong
Pillows and blankets surround
The thunder shakes the whole town

Life Of A Poet

When life feels confusing
And I don’t know where I am
I linger about a new musing
Of lyrics, gold, and glam

Feelings made to words
Words subdue the confusion
Whether rhymes of singing birds
Or phrases of my own delusion

Like the lyrics of a song
Or the moves of a brand new dance
They never do me wrong
Nothing is left to chance

Even as I write to you now
Life is as crazy as it gets
Some things to make a raise in brow
Some things I’d like to forget

Sometimes life is full of strife
It even brings you low and down
Life your chin up to your life
Let the letters become your crown

A Note From E.M.

Every single day is a struggle, but that is why we are all here.  We have the ability to lift each other up and allow the words to flow out of us.  Thank you to all of those that have supported me by reading what I write.

xoxo

You Inspire Me, Dad

Last January I lost my father, and it has been one of the hardest things that I have ever encountered in my life.  The feeling that I will never be able to call him, hear his voice, complain about this or that…it’s overwhelming still after a year of him being gone.  I think the word I am looking for to describe it is surreal.  It still seems like he is there, and then I realize that he is gone.  Losing a parent feels like a completely different loss to me than losing a friend or other family member.

Through every loss in your life though, you get something in return…at least that is how I think about it.  I got back my ability to write again.  Dad was a poet, and he had wisdom well beyond what I had ever imagined growing up.  I admired him as my father, but I don’t think I saw him completely until I was sifting through my box of photos and his stuff that I brought back after the funeral.  His poems were also in this box.  I sat here for hours reading all of them.  I learned so much about him that I never knew, and it brought tears to my eyes.  As soon as I was done reading, I created this blog, and I have been writing for hours upon hours now…the only rest between was sleep.  He inspired me to start writing again because it is what we have always shared with one another.

Growing up I would share my short stories and poems with him, and he would critique them in a caring but efficient way.  Sometimes it made me so mad when he would give me direction on one of my stories, but as I look back, I appreciate that criticism.  It was hard to take in.  I was just a little girl…about 10 years old I would think looking back.  I had no idea then that we would share the same passion for creativity and expressiveness.

His pen name was S.A. Kingston, and he was a brilliant poet and artist of words.  He was my Dad, and I miss him dearly.  I am thankful I have his poems to look back on and reflect on who he was because it is helping me find myself again.

So, here I am, Dad.  I am writing again, and it feels really good.  Thank you for giving me the inspiration to feel through my words again and share my creativity with the world.  You are my light in the window of my soul.  I will keep the candle burning for you.