Category Archives: Poetry

Reflections of What Made You Who You Are ~Letters from the Heart #atozchallenge

Dear B,

Well you have absolutely done it again. Picked a topic which takes a lot of deep thought and contemplation. How in the world will you get this post done in time? There’s much to do…cooking, cleaning …. and calling your mother.

You may have to cheat just a little.

Why do you write ?  Have a gander right here.  When you get a chance maybe you should update that.

Writing has always been a hobby but at one point there was a time you wanted to be famous.  Remember that terrible book you had so many issues with?

It’s more fun to just have a place to ponder your thoughts and write whatever you want instead of what people tell you to write.

When you get sick of writing let your creativity explode in the kitchen. You always have something tasty going on over there.

Tall Cool ☺ne and you have such a fairytale to tell, not to mention the on-going journeys and never ending projects. My, my, you are a busy little thing aren’t you?  Just a face in the crowd baby, a face in the crowd.

Now, in perfect fashion, you have decided to take on that opportunity you talked about in an earlier post. Good luck my dear. You can do this. You have the inclination and determination it takes to push yourself to reach higher goals. If you are comfortable, you are not challenging yourself. Remember that, and when the going gets tough, get a cup of coffee and the tough will get going.

You just realized you don’t have a blog for the kids and grandkids.  You need to build a site for them….one more thing to add to your to do list.

until next time your constant and faithful,

This is A2Z #atozchallenge

My Haiku

This is A to Z
Blogging trial for companions
Some missions crazy

 

Wanna Play?


Blogging companions on a mission
To find a word or commission
Fashion a familiarity
With whom that hold a similarity
In writing a composition, without communication
Of a fifth symbol in ABC classification
Straightforward writing with a ballpoint
Collaborations with a buddy to a midpoint
Satisfy with forward mark of your opinions promptly
… who’s following?



This is part of the #AtoZChallenge2021 for the letter E. Think you can play along? Go for it. Just reply in the comments section with a link to your post for the day. Good luck.

Quarter Finals

I’m going to be quiet today because I know everyone else is taking advantage of the Q word no one wants to hear about anymore. It’s been a quandary for all of us and we are tired of it.

Besides, I have fig BBQ sauce bubbling away in the kitchen and need to get that canned up. But here’s a quick poem to make you laugh…


Quarter Finals
Stanley Cup Play-offs

Hockey is my favorite sport
They chuck the puck across the court.

I especially love it when they foul
And when the ref throws in the towel!

When they are down two to one
Three balls, two strikes, oh boy, home run!

Cheerleaders jump and yell with glee
Everyone loves that mean goalie

Peanuts, popcorn and ice cold beer
And people wonder what I’m doing here
Omigosh, wait I think that’s a birdie
Cellphone’s beeping; it’s my friend, Gertie
I love hockey look at that– a hole in one
Instead of that last beer, I should have had none.



See ya tomorrow with the letter R.

Welcome to the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  This year I think it will bring a lot more people together with this crazy pandemic. Being quarantined means people will flock to the web looking for things to do. This is a great way to meet new friends/contacts.  Maybe you will read something new, find a new hobby, or just be entertained by some random musings.  Whatever the case may be, stay safe, drink plenty of liquids and enjoy the trip. 




Painting Pictures with Paper and Pens



Putting up with me is not always an easy chore for my Tall Cool ne. Pens and paper are always scattered around the house. I like my piles of proper writing tools. One cannot have too many pens. He thinks I’m a packrat but I’m not. I just pacify myself with pads of paper and pretty pens or pencils, but I prefer pens with blue ink.

Painstaking is the passion of a writer painting pictures with words we write.


This project or proposal that faces me,
Starts out on paper made from a tree.
Pen rolls ink, and pencil lays lead,
Words come together in chronological thread.
Ideas jotted at first in a mixed array or jumble,
Read out loud it sounds like a mumble.
Rearrange a word here, add a word there,
Pencil in an adjective chosen with care.
Creation comes together, and a short tale is told,
Perseverance, trial and error and sometimes being bold.
Grab a pencil and a pad, and let the lead flow,
Ideals will evolve of things you didn’t know.
A pen makes it permanent; written on paper is neat,
Portfolio of writings for later readings is a treat
Pens and pencils and paper on pads,
Never will be just one of those fads.



Welcome to the A-Z Blogging Challenge. This year I think it will bring a lot more people together with the pandemic we are experiencing. Being quarantined means more people will flock to the web looking for things to do. This is a great way to meet new people. Maybe you will read something new, find a new hobby, or just be entertained by some random musings. Whatever the case may be, stay safe, drink plenty of liquids and enjoy the trip.

Mason Jar Friendships



Much like a cupboard of full Mason jars
Or the midnight sky of twinkling stars
A friend is compassionate, funny and sweet
Whilst some encourage in times of defeat
Sharing a story to brighten a frown
Lending a shoulder to the friend who’s down
Great treasure is found when least expected
Friends will stand tall, when one is rejected
Countless secrets, much laughter digested
Friendships depend on the time invested
Shower your friends with love and affection
Guide each other with positive direction
Relationships built on candor and trust
Will stand the test of time, and never will rust
Friendships will age, as does the garden crop
Work will be done, not without a teardrop
Like an old Mason jar filled with treasure
Finding true friendships is such a pleasure

Thanks again goes out to Berta and Rach who made this awesome quilted tapestry for me.




Welcome to the A-Z Blogging Challenge. This year I think it will bring a lot more people together with the epidemic going on right. Being quarantined means more people will flock to the web looking for things to do. This is a great way to meet new people. Maybe you will read something new, find a new hobby, or just be entertained by some random musings. Whatever the case may be, stay safe, drink plenty of liquids and enjoy the trip.

Philomena’s Parade

Each day Philomena leads the parade
Through a buttercup field never been hayed
Heifers and steers they trudge across the land
No knowledge of what their owner has planned

“There’s no money in it,” claims panjandrum
Why does he raise them?  It’s a  conundrum
Dumb old man, who will excessively boast
He raises the meat but won’t eat the roast.

Sun peeks up from the horizon, east
Dew covered grass swaps grazing bovine feast
Baby calves frolic with their tails up curled
Beyond that fence is a divergent world

Sometimes I want to break down that old fence
Let cows run free, I’ll suffer consequence
But a cow is not a pet, won’t house train
Dwells in a meadow; grazes off terrain

I’ll watch from my window as livestock feeds
Down comes the fence with imagined stampedes
Philomena named for big cow mama
Greatly loved by all; she’s an enigma

When the moon grows full and the breeze turns hot
Young calves flaunt themselves as they were taught
Across the pasture the path is well laid
One by one, Philomena’s parade.

 

Helmar’s Handbag

Helmar’s Handbag

He carried it with him wherever he went,
From inside came nickels and dimes which he spent.
But that wasn’t all he carried in his bag,
It was his whole life, since he’d turned scalawag.
Pictures, trinkets and a tube of red lipstick,
His life now nothing but a nasty limerick.

There’s a he-she on the street corner
Who once made movies as a porn’er
Now he’s just a ‘has been’
Doesn’t care for women,
But Helmar’s handbag will always adorn ‘her’.

Without even knowing he creates a trap,
For the same patrons who toss coins in his lap
Frequently customers will buy him a treat,
Till someone comes out and yells at him “Beat-feet!”
He gathers up his things and looks all around,
Helmar with ‘her’ handbag sashays out-of-town.

There’s a young stud from El Camino’s
Panhandles change for frappuccinos
If it weren’t for Starbucks
He’d yield to hailing trucks
And he wouldn’t be drinking cappuccinos.

Eloquently Eccentric

 

An odd set of earrings hang from one ear,
Under her left eye, a tattooed red tear.
Her clothes are not rags, but somewhat frumpy,
Hailing from town known more than less dumpy.
Attitude is choice and hers is portrayed
By the smile on her face, daily displayed.

No ring on her finger yet to be found
Her prince has not come, ever to be crowned.
Gracing an audience of birds in the park
When the sun comes up until it turns dark
Singing a song from the top of her lungs
Singing the same song in so many tongues.

Those who don’t know her may feel she’s a threat,
She just misses being part of the quartet.
Her mind went astray along with her friends,
The family she had, left with dividends.
She fends for herself and lives all alone
Don’t confuse her with those on methadone.

She was well-known at one point in her life
It wasn’t what you think, just a housewife
She cooked and cleaned and she took care of tots
Until she got lost with trivial thoughts.
So now she just sings a song she once knew,
Of life gone by before she became you.

 

Outliers

Sometimes intentions are misunderstood
Taking on more than we probably should
To our chagrin we fail others desires
Passion sucked out like blood-thirsty vampires

We strive to please and make everything right
Even when we win, we’re still in the fight
It is certain always we will have strife
Betrayals and downfalls cut like a knife

His power, His glory is full of grace
Mistakes we’ve made we need not feel abased
Not focusing on failures – take a peek
For in our hindrances, HE we must seek

A world of our own apart from the rest
Our goal is perfection, to be the best
Though it won’t happen while living on earth
Corralled together his chosen rebirth.

The blogging challenge is over, but I still have that desire to write and share and help others where I can.  Thanks to Robyn for this picture of Inspiration.  Hope this inspires you as well to trudge on, even when you feel like you can’t win… you can.

Yearning for Youth

Scan_20140520 (2)

Before we grew old we used to be young
Not caring about stupid things we’d done
We challenged the world and played life as a game
We were a force to be reckoned, no one could tame
Rules were broken and laws didn’t hold
We didn’t care our shoulders were cold.
Youth is stupidity let out of a cage
Learning comes slow for the young in age.

As we grew up our youth soon did fade
And soon a year became a decade
Wisdom was earned by mistakes that we made
And maturing in knowledge while our legacy we laid.
We came to a place or a cross in the road
We had to make a choice, would our soul be sold?
Middle age is that time when we learn to be diligent
And use our knowledge to teach others and being vigilant.

When we were young we didn’t think we’d grow old
Thinking back on those stories and the ones we haven’t told
To go back to then knowing what we know now
Would be a lost cause because we wouldn’t know how
To use the lessons we learned through the experiences we’ve had
And our younger years wouldn’t be fun they’d only be sad
Youth is in the mind and when we learn this we’ll find
This game called life, keeps our youth close behind.

Y

Tautology

Tautology

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times

Writing poetry is making up rhymes

Expressing our sentiments and thoughts in prose

In a stance when it’s read rhythmically it flows.

 

Not everyone shares in this labor of love

If the fingers don’t fit they can’t wear the glove

 

We rant and we rave and we spill out our guts

Sometimes in our verse we come across as bigots

I suppose that could be true but it could also be false

Otherwise we’d never exceed in this creative writing waltz

 

Not everyone shares in this labor of love

If the fingers can’t fit they won’t wear the glove

 

Composing is a game we play in our head

The work never stops, even after it’s fed

Perpetual and constant forever we write

Happily we perform in this never-ending plight

 

Not everyone shares in this labor of love

If the finger don’t fit, don’t wear the glove.

T

 

 

Quadruped Quimby

Quimby

While planting in the yard I noticed a hole,
Remote and camouflaged, near a kobold knoll.
The dirt was pulled out in a small little mound
Deep inside for a quadruped, a home had been found
Never would have noticed this queer tiny friend
But the roses were blooming and I needed to tend
When I peered into the ground two eyes peered back
I feared for my life this tetrapod would attack
I ran for a shovel but only found a rake
To fill the hole in the ground for everyone’s sake
I ran from the shed after a swig from the flagon
I returned to the hole and there stood a small dragon
At first I was scared but then I could see
He was just as frightened, even more so than me
He promised he’d be kind and wouldn’t hurt a soul
If he could just live in that hole down below
With contemplation and thought I finally agreed
In the garden he could stay if on the bugs he would feed
He pledged no flowers but only insects he would dine
Now I only see Quimby when I drink of the wine.

Q

Mother Goose

Mother Goose

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat where have you been?

Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes
Ring-a-ring of roses, a pocket full of posies

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son
Stole a pig and away he run

Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you?
With the old woman, who lives in a shoe?

Four and twenty black birds baked in a pie
Georgie Porgie made the girls cry

Jack and Jill went up the hill
Humpty Dumpty soon fell ill

Little Bo Peep lost all of her sheep
While Little Boy Blue fell fast asleep

Little Miss Muffet ate curds and whey
And with the spoon the dish ran away

The three little kittens began to cry
And little Jack Horner stuck his thumb in a pie

Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea,
He’ll come back and marry me.

Little Tommy Tucker sang for his supper
Polly put the kettle on, Sukey took it off again

Hickety, pickety, my black hen
She lays eggs for gentlemen

Simple Simon met a pieman
Peter, Peter pumpkin eater, had a wife but couldn’t keep her

I met the crooked man who walked a crooked mile
And spent the crooked sixpence against the crooked stile.

Just some  beloved Mother Goose rhymes
The poems that I read in earlier times.

How many do you remember?

What’s your favorite Mother Goose Rhyme?

M

Lauren’s Lullaby

Lauren

Whispers sweet words from that mouth of hers,
Into her den, the innocent she lures.
Promises of fortune, longevity, and fame
Those who fall are never the same.

Do this for me and you will see
Machiavellian is really quite easy
Follow my lead and sip of my tea
We shall rule together, and you will spy for me.

Her techniques are smooth, skilled as knaves
Building a harem of lickspittle slaves.
Promising incentives while building anticipation
As she wheedled each with subtle flirtation

Do this for me and you will see
Machiavellian is really quite easy
Follow my lead and sip of my tea
We shall rule together, and you will lie for me.

She forbids them from visiting former friends
Threatening to eliminate their nominal stipends
She has intertwined them before they realize
Her lullaby is just a legion of lies.

Do this for me and you will see
Machiavellian is really quite easy
Follow my lead and sip of my tea
We will rule together, and you shall die for me.

L

Side note: By no means do I mean any disrespect to Cait.  I think she is lovely, and this was the perfect picture for my character Lauren.

Jargon Jabberer

Joker

We call ourselves Jack-of-all-trades,

While poker hands come up all spades.

This writing job we encounter jerks,

And rarely enjoy a rich man’s perks.

Journalism is our skill of trade

Unfortunately never well paid

Taking words and juxtapose

Into rhyming jargonizing prose.

Some of us are known as a Jesus freak

Till we learn how to teach while being meek

Journeying through this annual dare

Justifying to ourselves why people stare

John Barleycorn was an interesting fellow

In Maine some people speak in joual.

I’ve jabbered on quite long enough,

Joie de Vivre and always stay tough.

The Challenge

JNew Image

Holding Henry’s Hand

Holding hands

Staring out the booger stained window
Sat in the front seat, the school yard weirdo.
His clothes were worn and his hair unkempt,
Poor Henry was always held in contempt.

Seats were assigned back in the day
Until a bad storm that happened in May
Roads were closed and routes redirected
Former designations were rejected.

School bus filled with many new faces,
Colors, ages and even races.
The students were older and conversant
As I stepped up the steps I felt lucent.

No familiar faces could I see,
Except for the kid, known as Henry.
He was alone except for his book
With reservation the seat I took.

The ride was rough, many roads closed
Through it all, Henry stayed composed
As the bus drove through treacherous land
I remained calm holding Henry’s hand.

The Challenge

H

A Friend

friend

I really did not want to use Friend for the F challenge. But it’s the one F word that keeps coming back to me. In my humble opinion too many people will use the word “friend” without knowing the true meaning of what being a friend is.

“I have four hundred and seventy-six friends on Facebook.”

I don’t but some people probably do. A friend is a person whom one knows well and is fond of. Friendships are not easy and they are not to be taken lightly. If you have accepted the challenge to be a friend you might as well give in to the fact that it is going to be hard work. You need to reach out to be a friend to that person more than they reach out to you.  It’s not just when it’s convenient or to celebrate something. It’s all the time.

I hate Facebook although I partake. It seems like people think  “oh if you want to know what’s going on with me, just look at my Facebook”. I suppose that is the new age wave, and I’m getting old, and I’ll deal with it in my own time.

For now I will still share my opinion and shoot off at the mouth. Friendships are not easy, it takes hard work from both participants. Not just fair-weathered, and not just when there is a need for something. Friendship is four seasons. If you have a good friend… tell them how much they mean to you and how special they are. I can tell you it sure does mean a lot to me when I hear from my four friends.

This term friend I have to ponder
In my mind I let it wander
It’s the unexpected places
In unpredicted faces
Where one will saunter
And a friend that we will find

When I was young
And in grade school
One friend I had
And thought was cool.

But then I disapproved
Around the time of junior high
With her parents she did move
We cried and had to say good-bye.

Another friend came along
And took the place of she,
But it wouldn’t be too long
Before I would finally see
That her motives were all wrong
And she wasn’t really a friend to me.

She used me for her personal gain
And took my friendship all in vain
Someone else had more than me
So she moved up in society

One more friend I gave my heart
Everything clicked right from the start
But we were young it wasn’t right
She upped and left, gone one night

A lesson hard, a lesson learned
Then in a job a friend I earned
This friend who said that I could trust
Shame on me it was all for lust

Dismissed was I and he moved on
The friends I had were now all gone
Another job I did pursue
Working hard without issue

A different job, more so-called friends
Staying late to make amends
It all worked out for a while
But then my friends were in denial

They drained my heart and ate my soul
Cleaned my thoughts just like a bowl
I had to leave and get away
Who needs a friend anyway?

We all need friends
To help us grow
And feel complete
In all we know
If you have a friend
You deeply adore
Tell them once
Then tell them some more.

The Challenge

F

Charmed by Charlatan

Charlatan

His breath is hot against her ear
He promises there’s nothing for her to fear.
Perspiration beads at the crest of her breast
She accepts this challenge, as a test from the best.

Serpent from old, this charismatic man,
Steals her heart with a dramatic plan.
His words are just a deceiving coy,
Fashioning an exotic and believing ploy.

Her eyes seduce him with unrelenting predictions,
Married with children, he disregards the convictions.
Skin against skin they come together,
Legs entwining tightly into a tether.

Serpent from old, this sensual she,
Proposing how casual sex can be.
Her movements always lascivious and rude,
He can’t refuse being curious and screwed.

Charlatan comes in all walks of life
Struggles, tribulations, and stirring up strife;
Luring innocence into false pretenses,
Promising green grass over the fences.

Be it a she, or be it a him,
Projection forecast always grim.

What is the Challenge?

C

Don’t Bite the Hand that Feeds

House

The grass grows thick and the weeds sprout taller
“I want the lawn cut!” the landlady hollered.
When things were pretty, we did all we could,
She always commented about her soil being good.
It’s not just the soil that makes a garden grow,
The farmer that toils it, nursing each planted row.
She won’t give credit where credit is due,
She only sees dollar signs, such a shame, but true.
We treated this place as if it were our own
Now that we’re leaving she wants to pick a bone,
Take care of this, and get rid of all that,
She’s forgotten all about her own hazmat.
We’ll do all we can to leave the place nice,
It won’t be infested with roaches and mice
When we first moved in, this place was a joke,
General maintenance and upkeep made us broke

    house1
The hedges needed trimming and some creative cuts
Grass needed watering, and filled in the ruts
Paint on the house was chipping and flaked
Tons of pine straw needed to be raked.
The roof had a leak and screen door broke
The back porch in shambles this is no joke
“I’m quick with a fix,” he said with a drawl.
My man did it all; not just handsome, but tall
The hedges were trimmed up in unique fashion
Lawn mowed, watered, flourishing green with passion
Scrapped, taped and painted in just a few days
Replaced the roof metal without delays
Over and over we tried to buy this place
Didn’t want to sell it, she smooth-talked with grace
“Stay as long as you want, I won’t raise the rent,”
That was before her money was all spent.
afterhouse

 

With all the upgrades and hard work we‘ve done
Town took notice and higher taxes have begun.
She said the increase is only due to insurance,
This and our opportunities are a happy confluence
What she doesn’t understand is we are not deceived
Insurance doesn’t benefit us, as she’d have us believe
Adventures await us, over the road in a truck
She’ll take advantage of the next innocent shmuck.

Everyone Has One

a friend

 

Everyone has a story to say

Everyone carries a burden with flare
Not everyone has the courage to share
Some wear their heart on their sleeve
Engaging those, who with them, will grieve
Others will cower and rather just hide
Ashamed to tell how they feel inside.
All characteristics will darken our door
Well-versed and rich, or tattered and poor.

Everyone has a tale to convey

Everyone faces a time in their life
All they can see is despair and strife
Some fight the fight with all that they’ve got
Others back down without giving it a thought
All physiognomies appear on our path
Showered in cologne, or in need of a bath

Everyone has a story to hide

Some keep the skeleton in seclusion
And worry about facing aspersion
Do you have a secret you wish to convey?
You can reveal all without dismay
Get on your knees and simply confess
No need to worry about trying to impress

Everyone needs a friend on their side

Some will ignore the free gift He gave
Some will stay chained to their sin as a slave
Jesus gave all when He died on that cross
Even to those who live in full chaos
Get on your knees and ask for compassion
Forgiveness is free with a simple confession

Everyone has a story to say
Everyone has a tale to convey
Everyone has a story to hide
Everyone needs a friend on their side

YeLoDoT

yellowdot

When I look in the mirror,
the person that I see
is someone I used to know,
staring back at me.

For each blemish,
mole, and every strand of gray hair,
has earned it’s own special place,
on my head in there.

I wonder if those wrinkles
on the face of me,
are what one considers,
as aging gracefully?

Stories I could share
would make a heart skip a beat.
But I always made it through,
landing on my feet.

Some will blame their parents,
for things they might have done,
For my faults I lay no blame,
I’m the only one.

Things that I’ve been through,
I admit I’m not too proud
Events caused much innocence
in my mind it did becloud.

I always give credit
where the credit is due
for those who helped influence
my life as I grew.

But all of the mistakes
are mine alone to own,
not in my parents face
will they ever be thrown.

Too many people now
are living in the lies
hiding behind the veil
or some other disguise.

Lives are not certain,
tomorrow not guaranteed,
we take the path we learn
whether or not agreed.

I’m still learning some hard lessons
as I’m growing old
much of that instruction
I don’t like to be told.

As I reflect on
the tests that I’ve been through
you may disagree,
but in my mind it’s all true,

Life is not easy
and we won’t get all we crave.
I won’t give into my wants
or let them me enslave.

No trials, tribulations,
nothing in defect,
there’d be nothing to live for
if we were all perfect.

I give all the glory
to the One and the Only.
Jesus Christ, my Savior
Who died on the Cross, for me.

Of course there is a much deeper story to the yellow dots than this poem, but this is part of my reflection on being a yellow dot and I am what I am because of Jesus Christ and Christ alone.  Hope you have enjoyed my Y blog and be sure to check out some of the other great bloggers taking part in the challenge.

Y

Pens & Pencils

Pens & Pencils

This project or proposal that faces me,
Starts out on paper made from a tree.
Pen rolls ink, and pencil lays lead,
Words come together in chronological thread.
Ideas jotted at first in a mixed array or jumble,
Read out loud it sounds like a mumble.
Rearrange a word here, add a word there,
Pencil in an adjective chosen with care.
Creation comes together, and a short tale is told,
Perseverance, trial and error and sometimes being bold.
Grab a pencil and a pad, and let the lead flow,
Ideals will evolve of things you didn’t know.
A pen makes it permanent; written on paper is neat,
Portfolio of writings for reading later a real treat.
Pens and pencils and paper on pads,
Never will be just one of those fads.

Be sure to check out some of the other great A-Z challengers blogging for P today.

P

Dreams

Dreams

dreams_quote_2

Every human experience, every emotion, our deepest desires, our hopes, our fears can all be revealed in our dreams. Our hidden self that we try to keep from the outside world emerges from our subconscious. We see ourselves in the raw. We can be warned of potential danger or we can find answers to problems we are unable to see in our daily routines. Things that trouble us frequently crystallize in our dreams. Some dreams even predict the future.

Some people like to say they don’t dream, simply because they can’t remember their dreams. Dreams express our true selves, including desires we can’t even admit to ourselves, let alone to others. It’s the only way we have to express them. Dreams are loaded with emotion that can distort our memory, and therefore, unless you write it down when you first wake up, the chances are good that the dream will be forgotten.

When a dream recurs time and time again, there is something important about the weak and strong parts of our personality. The recurring dreams deals with an aspect of life that hasn’t been sorted out or laid to rest. Perhaps a problem that hasn’t been solved. Dreams are repeated because their message hasn’t been received or understood.

Day dreams are also good because we can control them. If something goes a way we don’t like, we just change it over to the way we want to see it. Dreams help us to focus on what we think we want when we need to escape from the realities of life. It’s a different land, a different world, a different place, a happy spot when there appears to be no happiness. Sometimes a dream is all a person has. Better to have a dream than to have nothing. Without dreams what do you have to work toward?

When we dream we free ourselves from the stress of everyday life. We express ourselves in a manner which we wouldn’t share in public. Pay attention to your dreams, and perhaps you will understand yourself more completely.

Dream On Baby!

 

D

Be sure to read some of the other D-Blogging Challenges.