Beautiful, Happy, Yellow Roses. At one time they brought me utter delight, at another they brought me despair and heartbreak. A different day, a different situation. Total miscommunication.
I choose just to look at the happiness of the stunning flowers. I accept, though it is hard, that some things just can’t be worked out or understood. No matter how much you want to be heard, some people will not hear you. That’s Life. You tried, move on. It’s complicated.
the stars around us
long ago i sat under the stars now seems like ive been sittin here under this tree for all my life. all my life 
and nothin’s changed. i sit here in the morning, at night, don’t matter. someone asked me if i was happy, what the hell she mean by happy. i don’t know what happy means no more, can’t feel it, can’t remember it,cant taste it. but not sure i remember real sad neither. i sit in my chair under my tree, yes in deed that is my tree just watching and listening to the Lord to see if the Lord wants me to come Home or not or if i should just stay on here. im not surprised by nothing, no more.
why should I be? seen too much destruction in my home, too much sadness and pain, you know nothing about me so dont judge me, little boy. what do you think you know, something better? well you dont. i had it all too once, yup, me and my friends who used to live down the street, we all had us some good jobs and on friday nights we would take us out with our gals and we would have us a fine night, eatin dinner out, dancin under the stars and smokey playing the guitar, me on the haermonica. everyone else laughing and drummin, the beer and wine flowed an we didnt care that we was drinkin from paper cups, why that was like china crystal for us, we didnt know better and we didnt care neitther. nothing was more important to us than doing an honest days work, being with family, eating all together with friends and looking at the stars around us. why that was the most beautiful picture of them all.
you dont need a lot of money for beauty, thats what i’m trying to tell u but a little money, yeah, that does help. I got none now, none, not for lack of trying, but sooner or later you just bury those dreams and give up cuz no one care about you anymore and you feel the same way. i dont care about me no more, i eat whats other peoples leftovers are, i crawl around at night, i cant walk quick no more, but i can get around with the cane i made myself so i get scraps here an there, i share them sometimes. i dont care about eating, no more tho i used to, have my pots and pans still, little stove. i don’t use them much.
i just sit, waiting, just in case someone visits, i even got an extra chair beside me but i know, it stays empty, and thats just alright, juz fine by me. i had that love once, i dont get entitled to a second round mized up my life with the wrong people and too much drinkin. so now i sit alone, i know no one is coming round to see me, i know that chair besides mine is gonna be empty till the day they carry me out from here, stone cold dead.
English: Out of the dark, into the light Bridleway from Bredhurst, leaves Monkdown Woods on the way to Boxley Grange Farm. Eight Acre Woods in background on the right(darker section of woods). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
We have a lot of artwork (believe me, nothing valuable) in the living room, some framed prints, one small oil painting that I fell in love with and walked into the gallery and bought it immediately. It wasn’t cheap but every time I look at the piece of art work, I love it anew. It was worth every penny I spent on it and that was fourteen years ago. I love it and smile at it each time I see it, there is no price tag on joy.
Our bedroom has nothing on the walls except a small framed print that my father bought me many years ago in Vienna. Its message is to look for optimism through the dark times, a dark bridge opening into sunlight. There’s a photograph of my husband and myself when we got engaged that is informal that we keep here too, young love. We have been married almost 25 years now. We have art work in most other rooms, framed photographs in the bathroom, office and a new framed print in the kitchen. Photos of our kids (now young adults) and one special photo of them from when they were babies that I allow myself to keep. Also, one of our dog (as well as a photo of our first dog.)
I think it speaks family, warmth, home, love, beauty, travel and nature.
There was a problem sharing your post.
Retry or edit credentials
None of your friends have responded yet. You were the first!
Sisters (Photo credit: David~O)
Image via Wikipedia
There are many ways I express my creativity even though I am the worst “arts and crafts” person around. When my daughter was little and in the girl scouts I would ruminate for hours on what craft I could and would do to entertain the girls. I write (as you would expect!) and I also take photographs. There have been many times I have made collages out of some of the photographs I have taken and pictures ripped from magazines. I use quotes, poetry, even things that have broken, cemented on to the poster board of the day. I find that it really showcases how I am feeling at that particular time. I never plan it out, I just collect a lot of things and put it together the way I want. There is no wrong or right way. I have missed making a collage, thanks for the impetus; I’ll start a new one very soon.
I was younger than two years old and my baby self was in a crib, crying and upset. It’s almost as if I see the image as a third person, like a photo you want to take. I am upset and I hear soft footsteps coming. It was my dad who came, he reached over the crib and started rubbing my back. “Ah, Ah, baby, Ah Ah baby” he murmured, over and over again, until I was calm and safe and soothed.
Facebook 
Twitter 
Hibernationnow's Blog 